


Outlaws for Life (Red Dead Redemption 2)

by Fedeipox



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Curses, F/M, Love Stories, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 43
Words: 161,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fedeipox/pseuds/Fedeipox
Summary: Fred Faraday is a strong willed girl with a troubled past. She spent the last few months looking for the Van der Linde gang, but no-one understands why. When she finally finds them, she seems to regret that immediately, but everything is more complicated than that. She is more complicated than she seems and her feelings for the gang members are complicated, especially towards the "big, taciturn" Charles.So a new adventure starts, a whole new life for a girl just like me and you. How did it start? How will it end?PS. English isn't my first language, so if you find any grammatical mistake, please tell me. Just don't mind the dialogues: in 1899 they weren't much literate.
Relationships: Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 27





	1. A Quiet City

Valentine. Sheep and mud. Curious how they can call it a city.  
The high chimneys that spit their black smoke towards the sky; the stink of sewer that fills the nostrils; the noise of trains and stagecoaches that swarms the air together with the voices of thousands of people.   
Here, there is nothing like that. Here, they have no idea of what a city is and people are much different than in one of those big urban conglomerates: they are kinder and simpler, or at least that’s the first impression they have given me; they seem to live without many demands, day after day, they help one another, and they are friendly even with people who are, like me, new to the surroundings.   
There are some flaws in it of course. The wide street that goes through the various shops and bureaus is covered in mud, which is marked with the wheels of stagecoaches and horses’s hooves, and this is a terrible flaw because… I’ve never liked mud, even though I think I’ve got used to it after many years spent in a ranch.   
And moreover, Valentine people’s conversations are kind of boring: I swear, I’ve been here for almost a week and I've heard the same things again and again. I guess they don't have much to talk about.  
Since I’m here, I’ve kind of created my own routine. Every morning I go to the city stable where I take care of my horse and those they keep there for the sale. I take no money from the horse keeper, so he won't ask me anything for keeping there my Isabella: an appaloosa of dark brown coat with a black and white spotted back. It’s called barter.  
Then, I sit outside on one of the numerous benches with the "city old men”, chatting, making myself known and trying to appear kind and friendly, but not anyone likes me: apparently women with trousers are frowned upon even here in the “West”.   
At noon, I reach the saloon where the barman, who has become like a sort of friend to me, gives me something to eat and I keep myself busy helping him with the serving and cleaning.  
Like this, I’ve spent days here, but still I have no news. No one's heard a thing about a group of people that left Blackwater and that could buzz around. And now, I'm doubtful. Yet, they have to pass through here if they're going east. I'm quite sure they can't go west, but if they moved through the north, they can be everywhere by now.  
Wait. That's all I can do. Wait and hope and think of a plan B just in case they won't show up in the next few weeks.

Another day has passed. I wander in the streets, greeting the citizens and, between an argument and the other, I ask them if they've seen some new faces around.  
The answer is yes, new faces have appeared in the surroundings, but for them it isn't something odd because Valentine is a place of transition from the west to the east and vice versa. Quite a bummer, right?  
I'm outside the hotel seated near two elders who are talking lively about taxes, when I see three man at horseback passing right in front of me. Two have dark hair and skin - one seems a South American and one a Native - and the last one is white with brown hair and beard. New faces, but nothing familiar. I only know three of the gang members, those I've seen on the posters in Blackwater, those with the biggest bounties on their heads.  
The three stop the horses in front of the saloon and get down slowly. They exchange a few words and give a few looks around, and then two of them go inside the saloon while the one with the long beard keeps walking down the street.  
I have my eyes fixed on them when I hear someone call my name. It’s the stable groom. Distractedly, I get to him. He has to prepare a horse for being sold and he wants some help.   
“I’ll take care of it” I say with a hint of a smile to the buyer.  
I put myself to work, but my mind is still fixed on the newcomers. They could be simple passersby or they could be part of the group I'm looking for. Just to be sure of it, when I finish with this horse, I’ll go to the saloon and ask Lloyd, the barman, to keep and eye on them and, if he has the chance, to eavesdrop their conversations.   
I put the saddle on the horse’s back, checking up strings and straps, when the sound on an incoming wagon makes me look up with curiosity. Maybe some other customer? But I’m surprised to see three girls, all about my age, together with an old man and… another man who looks rather familiar.   
Opening my satchel, I take the three posters I took in Blackwater and check them until I find the one I need: Arthur Morgan, the picture is incredibly similar, with the short hair and beard, the broad shoulders, but definitely taller than I expected.   
And there it is, that familiar weight pushing on my stomach that shows up every time I turn nervous, even though I have no idea why I feel nervous right now. I was calm until some time ago, almost impatient at the idea of finally having found them.   
I follow them with the eyes, trying to memorize their aspect as they scatter, and being careful not to lose sight of Mr. Morgan who enters the general store with the old man. As soon as they disappear inside, I address the stable groom.  
“Can you prepare my horse?”  
“Are you leaving?” he frowns.  
“I hope so.”  
If I’m lucky, this is my last day in this shitty town.   
Getting to the hotel, I climb the stairs two by two, fast walk the corridor and enter my room. I start packing my things, but with the weight on my stomach more and more pressing, almost mutating into a rock pressing against my lungs, I have to stop.  
Okay, this is too much.  
I let the sack I’m holding fall to the ground and then close my eyes and inhale deeply a couple of times. The weight is still there, but I’m slowly regaining control of my body.  
I’ve waited so long for this moment, so why, why am I scared to finally meet them? Maybe because they’re criminals? The same kind of people who took everything away from me? But now, I have nothing left to lose, only to gain.  
Downstairs, I give the key of the room to the man behind the counter.  
“It was a pleasure to host you” he says with a polite smile.  
I smile back and open the front door just of an inch to peek outside. Mr. Morgan and his friend are seated outside the general store, chatting and with a bottle of liquor in their hands. I surely can’t go out now or they’ll see me and I don’t want that to happen before than necessary.  
“I think I'll use the back door” I say to the host heading to the back of the building.  
I cross the road where I can’t be seen and at the stable I find Isabella saddled up and ready to go. I load my things, take the reins, thank the horse keeper and lead Isabella out from the back of the stable, leaving her in a strategic position. As soon as I see them going away, I'll mount up and follow them as discretely as possible.  
“Stay here” I whisper to Isabella tying her at the stake.   
Then, going around buildings and walking little desert alleys, I reach one of the benches on the main street that gives me a perfect view on Mr. Morgan and the other man, not too far from them but not too exposed.   
After a couple of minutes, the two of them lower their hats on their eyes. 

I don’t have to wait much for something interesting to happen. Barely one hour later one of the girls who came here with them wakes them up. I quickly put away my revolver, which I took out to polish, and fix my eyes on them. The fact that I can’t hear a thing from where I am unnerves me.  
“I said come here!”  
When I look at the man who pronounced the words, my heart loses a beat. He’s one of the Foreman brothers, member of the infamous Foreman gang.  
He is chasing another one of the girls who arrived with Morgan and as soon as he catches her, he drags her in one of the little alleys, walking right in front of me.  
“Get off me!” she screams as I look at them disappear completely among the buildings.  
In the distance, Mr. Morgan notices them too and he stands to follow them.   
The alley they walked into is in the same direction as the bench I’m seated on, and while he walks, Morgan’s gaze finds my eyes and I jump on my place quickly turning around and pretending indifference.   
My heart starts beating fast as the fear of being uncovered flows inside me. It could need only a look, just a quick encounter of the eyes to understand someone is watching you, spying you, and I deeply hope this wasn’t the case.  
When I finally hear his steps walking away and he disappears inside the alley, I find the courage to turn around and sigh in relief.   
That could have been a disaster.  
“Uncle! Look after her. I'mma go see about Karen at the hotel” shouts Morgan to the other side of the street as soon as he comes back, followed by the girl.   
I’m really curious to know how he disposed of the Foreman, but for nothing on earth I want to lose sight of them, so it’s better for me now to stay put.  
She crosses the street and reaches the others while he walks through that door I entered so many times in the last week.   
I patiently wait for he to come back and in the meantime I study the three figures in the distance murmuring worried words between them and gazing nervously around. It also gives me the impression that some of those looks are addressed to me.   
The thought that I might have been uncovered paralyzes me and suddenly I don’t dare to move a muscle. If my idea is right, every movement might alert them.   
The door of the hotel opens up and the third girl walks out followed by Mr. Morgan.  
That’s it, now they should go back to the place they are holed up.   
But this thought doesn’t have the time to leave my mind that something else happens: as soon as the group is reunited, a man at horseback shows up, shouting at the top of his voice that he’s sure to have seen Morgan in Blackwater.  
“Me? No. Impossible. Listen, buddy. Come here for a minute” he says approaching the man with a menacing look.  
I lean forward on the bench and bring a hand to my holster as the situation alarms all my senses. Whatever his intentions are, I won’t allow him to hurt an innocent.  
But there is no need for my intervention. The man makes his horse turn around and runs away as fast as he can.  
Morgan does the same, mounting on the first horse he sees in the street and chasing the poor fool.   
I have no time for reaction, no time for thinking, the only emotion which is capable to break the surface of my astonishment is the feeling that I’ve lost a golden opportunity.  
I frown looking at the girls and the old man in the distance.   
What’s my next move? I could follow the wagon, but the risk the girls seated in the back could see me is too high. I could follow Morgan, track him down, but I’ve never been a good huntress and follow a horse I have no idea of where it has gone isn’t easy.   
I take a deep sigh and just look at the wagon as it disappears around the corner, resigned at the idea there is nothing more I can do for now.   
I stand up and head to where I’ve left Isabella, ready to bring my things back at the hotel. I just hope they will come back tomorrow, or maybe the next day.  
Taking Isabella’s reins, I’ve almost leaded her back to the stable, when a sound of hooves in the mud right beside me makes me turn and the image of Mr. Morgan on the “borrowed” horse walks past me, stopping at the saloon and getting inside.  
I become aware that the shock has frozen me and returning into possession of my faculties I run to leave Isabella nearby before reaching the back door of the saloon.  
I can’t believe my luck! I expected everything but seeing him coming back, at least not after all that has just happened.   
I open the door, walk the short corridor and there they are. Morgan is at the bar together with the two men I’ve seen walk inside less than two hours ago, and I can’t help but feeling a little proud of myself for having thought they could be part of the gang, because in the end it was true.   
The three of them are talking with Anastasia and Diana, two working girl who frequent the saloon to find customers and that I have renamed Anastasia and Drizella due to their physical resemblance to Cinderella’s evil stepsisters. Apparently, Mr. Morgan says something rude because the girls leave with an outraged expression on their faces.  
What comes next, I’m not able to fully understand. The saloon door opens with a bang and the third man of the Van der Linde gang comes inside. He bumps into another customer, the two raise their voices, push each other and a fight starts.  
It all happens so fast that my mind hasn’t the time to process it and giving a fast glance at the bodies that start to collapse one against the other, I turn around and walk out from where I’ve come.   
The fresh air helps me understand what I’ve just witnessed. It seems they’ve just arrived and they are causing a lot of troubles already. Poor Lloyd who will have to clean all the mess after them.  
Shaking my head, I walk around the building and reach my beloved bench on the other side of the street.   
I have barely touched the seat that I see Morgan fly out of the window. Right after, Tommy, the saloon owner, a man as big as stupid, comes out shouting: ”come on, pretty boy!” To which Morgan replies an angry: ”Pretty boy? You're kidding me? Pretty boy?"  
All the scene could seem comic, if immediately after they hadn’t started beating each other furiously in the middle of the street.   
Tommy is well known for being maybe the biggest man here in Valentine, but Morgan seems to have experience. Who knows how many times he's done this.  
Their brawl catches the attention of almost the entire town and people start to gather around them. I have my eyes fixed on them when they get covered, and even if I try to move on the bench to catch something, it’s impossible for me to see them now. I can just hear the sound of punches and kicks and the unmistakable sticky sound of mud being stomped.   
It’s a scream that puts an end to everything.  
“Stop! Stop! Please!”  
I know that voice. It is Mr. Downes’, a poor devil who preaches for kindness and asks for money at the corner between the stable and the new house they are building.  
As the show ends and the tens of indiscreet eyes move away, Morgan and Downes exchange a few words, nothing I’m able to hear of course, and then Mr. Morgan pushes the poor man roughly aside and stumbles away. Downes helps Tommy to stand, or at least he tries. He doesn't look good and neither does Morgan.  
“Making new friends again I see, Arthur!”  
I dart my eyes left and right on the street until I see the two men I hadn’t seen before due to the crowd. One is a tall classy guy with a top hat and a mustache, the other one…  
I can’t believe it!  
I move on the bench as both excitement and a strong anxiety flow inside my body.   
It’s Dutch Van der Linde, the gang boss!  
The other three men come out of the saloon and, when they start talking, I feel the urgent need to stand up and reach them, hear what they are talking about, sure that they could have some useful information.   
I’m eaten alive by the curiosity, but yet I don’t dare lift my ass from this bench, scared at the idea that I still don’t know how they would react to my presence and to what I want to tell them.  
They all leave except Mr. Morgan, who finds a barrel where he washes from the mud.   
Just like a monkey from the box, I stand and run to reach Isabella, taking advantage of his distraction. My legs are unstable, my heart is hammering and my heavy head makes me feel like inside a bubble of soap.   
I wait for Morgan to mount on his horse and I follow him, keeping a good distance not to be noticed. I’ll try to find out where their hideout is.

He finally slows up, sign that we have reached said hideout. I get down Isabella and hide the both of us as I can behind some bushes.  
I don’t want to be seen yet, I’ll just make sure the rest of the group is in there and camp nearby, planning a way to make the introductions.  
He looks around suspiciously, just like he’s aware that someone is following him, and then he enters the little wood on the road edge.  
I wait a little before walking closer, making sure there is no-one around and that no-one comes out of the wood and finds me standing here. Then, I make my way through the thick trees and branches, pulling Isabella from the reins.  
There is a clearing and some tents, at least a dozen, and a lot of people. I have to be caref...  
“Who's there?”  
Panic. A sudden panic makes me freeze for a couple of seconds before I can realize what’s happening.   
Shit! I should have known they would put someone on watch.   
I move my eyes among the tangle of bark and leaves, trying to understand where the voice comes from.  
“I-I…”  
At my stutter, the man comes out from behind a tree and even before I understand he’s pointing a rifle towards me, I notice he’s the same man who started the bar fight at the Smithfield.   
I don’t know what to do except slowly raise my hands up in the air.  
“I don't want to cause any trouble” I say and my voice is shaking slightly because of the extreme stress I’m subjected.  
“Come closer!”  
“Alright, alright.”  
I take a few steps forward, slowly, studying his face and his attitude. He's not ugly and he hasn't a mean gaze, but surely he looks a little angry, and maybe a little dumb?  
“Who the hell are you?” he growls.  
I gulp. That little saliva that I still have in my mouth is blocked halfway in my throat by a knot.  
“Name's Fred. I'm here to talk to Mr. Van der Linde.”  
His expression changes: the brow, first furrowed in a mean way, now slightly relaxes, his mouth opens a little and his eyes start moving across my body, watching me form head to toe, and in the end he points at my revolver.   
Yes, this could be a problem.  
“I don't want to do anything bad, I swear” I say.   
“I just want to talk with Van der Linde.”   
“Give me your gun” he orders reaching out a hand.  
Just how I feared, he wants me unarmed. I take a step backwards and frown.   
“Hey, don’t do anything stupid” he says bringing his hand again to the rifle to aim better.  
Thinking about where I’m going, I don’t feel comfortable at all in giving him my only way to protect myself, but at the same time I know he won’t ever allow me to walk inside the camp with a weapon, even less let me go away now that I’ve found them.  
Slowly, I reach for my gun and hand it to him. He takes it, puts down the rifle and with a nod tells me to follow him. I take Isabella’s reins before do as I’m asked.  
My first impression was right: there are a lot of people in this camp, and also a lot of women, which is unusual. I’ve met Jack Hall’s man during my journey, I’ve met O’Driscolls, but they were all exclusively men.   
So, it seems the voices are true.   
While I follow the big man who’s stolen my gun, I notice that the people become aware of my presence and start gathering around me. It gives me the same feeling as I walked inside a cave full of wolves ready to dine on me. It’s not pleasant.   
Among them, I recognize the last man of the posters: Hosea Matthews. He is one of the first that approaches me.   
“Stay” I order to Isabella and then I take the last couple of steps, entering the circle of wolves.  
I suddenly have more than two dozens of eyes on me. Amazed, suspicious and hostile looks, eyes of people who live a life of crime and fear. And among them…  
Mr. Van der Linde pushes one of his men aside and enters the circle to face me, Mr. Morgan right after him.   
“I told you someone was following me” murmurs the latter.  
So, he knew I was coming. Well, it certainly doesn’t look good for me.   
In spite of the amount of nervousness increasing second after second, I try with all my strength to keep a serious and calm appearance, but it’s not easy at all: my breath is short, my mouth is dry, my stomach is so twisted I’m afraid of getting sick every moment now.  
“Were you looking for us, girl?” asks Van der Linde.  
His voice is tough and distrustful, just as I imagined, and he cannot be blamed. He doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him.  
“I was, actually. My name’s Friedrich Faraday, but they call me Fred.”  
They all wait for me to add something, but instead I stretch out a hand. Maybe is stupid, maybe is useless, but I’m incapable to control my body properly and the gesture comes to me naturally.   
Mr. Van der Linde fixes his suspicious eyes on me, and I try to smile at him, but I’m too nervous and the forceful expression of confidence I have to keep makes my lips tremble.  
“German name” he remarks.  
“German mother” I reply out of breath.   
In the end, he takes my hand and shakes it.   
Even if I can’t show it, I am a little relieved. It still isn’t the end of it, though. Now I have to convince them.  
“Well, you found us. But why bother so much? Are you interested in the bounty on our heads?” he inquires.  
“No, no, quite the contrary, Mister. I want to work for you.”  
“And why is that?”  
“Well, you know, voices get around, and I've heard about you and your gang.”  
My eyes move among the other members of the group, all deeply staring at me.  
“They say you're not like the others. That you have principles, rules, that you're not just criminals, more like a family.”  
“This is, my dear, exact. But, why a good girl like you should want to be part of a gang of outlaws?”  
Good. The word makes me smile. Funny how people who know nothing about you can say completely wrong things.   
I move my eyes on the ground and scoff.  
“Mr. Van der Linde, not to offend you, but you don't know me. To answer your question: let's say that recently I’ve lost my place in the world. I don’t know what to do anymore or where to go. I’ve found out that cities are not for me and that life in the country, when you’re a girl and you’re alone, it’s not safe. I’ve heard about you and I looked for you. I’ve been in Blackwater, by the way. Everybody is talking about you down there. And it seems they took one of you. He’s name is Sean, right?”  
“It seems that you know more about us than we know about you. But tell me, why should I take you with me? How do I know that you're not working for the government?”  
“I-I…well I have no idea how to help you with that. But if you take me with you, I can guarantee, I will make myself useful.”  
When silence falls, I make a great effort and look at him right in the eye. He seems curious. Amid all that diffidence there is the curiosity to know who I am and what I can do. But, even though I want to believe he’s not going to shoot me, there’a a part of me still scared that he could, and suddenly bearing his gaze is not so easy.  
I can’t look away, I can’t or he’ll think I’m lying.  
“Miss Grimshaw, can you find a place for this girl, please?”  
His words cause a turmoil inside me: I’m surprised by his fast decision, I’m relieved he’s not going to kill me and I’m excited for what is about to happen.   
I’m doing this, the last thing I’ve ever thought I would do: I’m entering a gang of outlaws, probably against all my interests.  
I look at this Miss Grimshaw, a more or less fifty years old woman with a proud gaze, and the weight of worry that was pushing on my chest since I don’t know when, suddenly vanishes.  
“Follow me Miss. We'll find you something” says Miss Grimshaw.  
I do as to follow the woman, still not fully believing what I’m experiencing, when I become aware there is something I’m forgetting about.  
“Oh! Err, can I have my gun back?” I ask to the man who received me at the beginning.   
He turns to Van der Linde who nods in consent, and only then he passes it to me.   
The crowd scatters and people go back to their work while Miss Grimshaw and I take a tour of the camp piking up blankets, pegs, hammer and wires. There is a place dedicated to the kitchen, a cart with medicines and ammunitions and many tents, some big and comfortable, others little and roughly put together.  
About half an hour after I'm assembling my little tent. I decide to place it near the horses, in the most external part of the camp, away from ears and eyes. When I finish it, I take my things from Isabella and place them inside.   
I take a step back… et voilà. Home sweet home.   
Sleeping on the ground won't be easy, but it could be worse.  
The sky above me is slowly turning dark, the sun is low on the distant mountains and after days… days? No. After weeks, months of doubt, I finally feel the load on my back lifted of a little. I’ve made my first step towards justice, now all the rest.   
I take a moment to sigh deeply, capturing all the different smells of the place. Finally something that doesn’t smell like sheep shit.  
“Miss Faraday, if you're done, Dutch would like to speak with you.”  
The man’s voice makes me turn around. Hosea Matthews is walking towards me.  
“Mr. Matthews” I say watching him.  
“It surprises me that you know us. And that you knew you could have found us in Valentine.”  
I can’t help but notice the tone he’s using with me is much different than the one of Mr. Van der Linde. He talks calmly and there is no trace in his voice of mistrust, maybe only a little curiosity.  
Useless to say, he makes me feel like I can trust him and I decide to speak openly. After all, there is nothing to hide on this subject.  
“Finding you wasn't difficult. I just had to go to Blackwater and follow your movements from there. It was impossible that you were heading west because it's there that your troubles started. So, it had to be north or east. For the other question…”  
I put a hand inside my satchel and pull out the three posters, giving them to him.  
“At the beginning we were going North, yes” he says watching the pictures.  
“We climbed the mountains, but then we had to move because of the O'Driscolls. Do you know them?”  
“I've heard something” I reply starting to walk towards the rest of the camp and looking for Van der Linde's tent.  
“How can it be that a young woman like you decides to join a group o criminals? Don't you have a family? A home?” asks Mr. Matthews, coming after me.  
How many times must they ask the same question? Every time, everyone, wants to know what I’m doing out here alone, and I’m sure they ask only because I’m a woman, because if I was a man, no-one would care.   
I decide to answer with the same three words I use with everybody.  
“No, I'm alone.”   
I feel his eyes on the back of my head, but I try not to pay attention to it. One day, they’ll probably force me to answer, but not now. It’s still too soon.  
“Dutch's tent is there, by the way. Oh, and Arthur's there, so you can meet him too” he changes topic and walks past me, leading the way.  
Mr. Van der Linde and Mr. Morgan are murmuring between them. The first is leaning against one of the poles of his tent, the second is seated on a chair right near him, his forearms on his knees.   
“Well, well, there she is! Did you make yourself some new friends?” asked Van der Linde turning in my direction and smiling at me.  
“Not yet. But I'll meet them soon” I reply smiling in turn.  
I move my eyes on Morgan on my right and notice he’s watching me in a strange way. He knew I was following him, maybe he also knew I was watching them in town, and he let himself being followed all the same. I wonder why.   
The idea that all this is nothing but a trap I’m falling in, sneaks inside my head.  
“No doubt, but now it's time to explain to you how things work here. There are three rules that you have to follow if you want to live with us” says Van der Linde.  
I immediately sense the change of attitude and some tension is generated between the four of us.   
“Number one: everybody makes his part, so start working. Help Miss Grimshaw with the organization. Bring supplies for Mr. Pearson, our cook. If you know how to hunt, bring some game, it will be useful. I see you've got a gun. Do you know how to use it?”  
“Sure.”  
“Good, we'll need it. Number two: all the money you take from a job has to be equally parted, half you, half the gang. You'll put your part in this box” he says leaning a hand on a dark little box next to him.  
“Number three…”   
He looks right at me and I stare back, feeling he’s about to say something I’m not going to like.  
“Who betrays me, pays with the life.”  
The eyes of the three men burn on me and the tension now makes all my muscles tense up. I try not to move, not to blink, not to breathe. If there is something I really don’t want to do in front of them, is showing my insecure part.   
“I wouldn't expect nothing less.”  
“Good.”  
As soon as his eyes leave mine, I feel free to relax again.  
“Now that we've settled it, tell me… you've mentioned Sean and Blackwater. Another of my men gave me this same information. What do you know about it?” he inquires.  
“Only that they keep him locked up and they want to move him as fast as possible.”  
“This means we have to rescue him immediately” says Mr. Matthews.  
“It won't be easy. You're wanted in all the West Elisabeth and Blackwater is covered with pictures of you all” I explain.  
“We'll find a way. Charles and Javier are already heading there” says Morgan.  
“Great. Arthur, first thing tomorrow you join them. And bring Miss Faraday with you. We'll see if it's true that she can use that revolver” orders Van der Linde.

The cart with the supplies is full of cans and jars of different colors and shapes, fresh fruit and vegetables are everywhere around, a deer is hanged upside down and a man is working on it.  
“You are Mr. Pearson, aren't you?” I ask.  
“The very same. And, you are Fred, aren't you?” he replies with a broad smile and an unnecessary loud voice.  
“The very same.”  
“How can I help you?”“No Mister, how can I help you? I have some experience in the kitchen and if you need anything, just ask me.”  
“Alright then. I prepare the stew every day at noon. If you have some free time you can help Mrs. Adler with the vegetables.”  
With his thumb, he points to a woman behind him, busy washing some dishes. Blonde, average height, on her thirties, she glimpses at me for one second, just one, but that's the time I need to catch her sad eyes.  
“Okay, I think we'll see each other soon” I say with another smile before moving away.  
I approach the boiling pot on the fire peeking curiously inside. The boiling red slime smells good, I hope the taste is too.  
I turn around, plate in hand, and the shape of a man tied to a tree makes it’s appearance. His contour stands against the light of the sunset, half bended on himself. How can I not have seen him before?  
“And, who are you?” I ask walking closer.  
He keeps his head down without looking at me even when I speak. It looks like he doesn’t care about anything anymore.  
“Kieran” he mumbles.   
“Why are you tied here?”  
“Cause I'm a prisoner.”  
“I see that, but why?”  
“I was part of another gang. And these fellers don't like the other fellers, so…”   
“Which gang?”  
Now he rises his eyes on me, clear and full of terror.  
“Don't worry, I don't want to hurt you. I'm just curious” I reassure him.  
“O’Driscoll” he whispers.  
“Uhm... I understand. Why don't you tell them what they want?”   
“I tell them what they want, and then what? They'll kill me” he whines.  
“Well, you don't know that” I reply.  
He lets out a moan and lowers his head again. I keep staring at him feeling sorry and wondering if I wouldn’t be in his same situation if Van der Linde hadn’t liked me. It must be awful to be tied day and night.  
“Do you want something? Water, some stew?”  
“They don't allow me to eat. But some water would be great. One of the girls brings it often.”  
“I'll be right back, then.”  
I bring him some water and say goodnight.  
“Thank you. For the water and the company. I missed talking with someone so kind” he says gratefully.  
“Don't mention it.”  
The camp is pitch dark but for the two camp fires and the oil lamps inside some of the tents. Almost all the people are eating and chatting and only a few walk around alone.  
The place gives me a new feeling, something I haven’t been sensing in a long time. Peace. Security. Both of them I would have never thought to experience at this time, and in a place like this, surrounded by these people.   
A neigh from my left makes me turn in that direction. They surely have more horses than I thought.  
I walk near them to say goodnight to my Isabella, petting her dark coat that blends with the wood behind her while several memories come back to me and I smile to myself.   
She is all that’s left me, my last connection with a life that, now, it feels like I lived centuries ago.


	2. Rescue Sean

The white cloth of the tent isn’t thick enough to block the light of the morning sun, at least not completely. I open my eyes staring at the white top and saying goodbye to my sleep.   
From the outside I can already hear different kinds of noises: birds, voices, crockery, footsteps. Noises of everyday camp life.  
I raise from the hard ground and walk out in the sun light, heading instinctively towards the kitchen. There must be some coffee around here and surely I’ll find it there.  
From the distance I spot the woman I met yesterday, Mrs. Adler, with something that looks like a coffee pot in her hands. Next to her there’s another girl with black hair. Full of hope I speed up grabbing a cup from the table as I walk past it.  
“Morning, is that coffee?” I ask as I get there.  
“Morning, yes it is” answers the girl with black hair, and blue eyes, as I’m able to observe from close up.   
“We still haven’t met, I’m Fred. Morning Mrs. Adler.”  
“Morning” she murmurs.  
“I’m Abigail. You want some?” asks the girl handing me the coffee pot.  
“Sure” I say taking it and pouring some.  
“Morning ladies.”  
The low voice makes me turn around and I force a polite smile to Mr. Morgan walking in our direction.   
“Morning Arthur” replies Abigail.  
He stops to look at each and everyone of us before fixing his gaze on me and, for all I’m able to perceive from it, he seems annoyed.   
We are about to leave for the West Elisabeth and rescue Sean, so maybe this look means he already thinks I’m going to be useless, only a burden.  
“Are you ready? It's a long ride for Blackwater” he says.  
“Ready. I just have to saddle up my horse.”  
“Come on, then.”  
Yes, he definitely thinks I’m useless. Well, he’s wrong.  
“See you” I quickly say to Abigail and Mrs. Adler and I head to the horses taking some big gulps from my cup. Some minutes after we leave for Blackwater.

We ride fast until we reach the Dakota River, ford it, climb the upland and enter the West Elisabeth.  
The landscape changes: the ground is more yellow than brown, the vegetation a couple of shades lighter, even the sky seems different, gray instead of blue.   
It’s then that Morgan slows up and we start to trot one next to the other.   
Too focused on the road ahead of me and what waits for us in Blackwater, I truly don’t expect him to talk, so when he does, I’m surprised.  
“I saw you talking with that Kieran boy yesterday.”  
His words are cold and direct and I can smell the incoming reproach from miles away.  
“Yes” I say, but it’s just a way to make him keep on more than a true confession.  
“Dutch doesn't like when we fraternize with the O’Driscolls.”  
I knew it. Too predictable. But now the question is: what’s the wrong in talking with the O’Driscoll? Aren’t they all criminals?   
Then, I remember what Kieran told me, about that sort of mutual hate between O’Driscolls and Van der Lindes. This means I have to play their game if I want them to trust me eventually.   
“I wasn't fraternizing, I was acquiring information” I say.  
“And you found something?” he asks sarcastic.  
“No.”  
“Then, don't do that again.”  
The sentence, pronounced like a command, bothers me, and I withdraw the instinct to answer something that would surely get me on his bad side.   
I know in these groups there’s a hierarchy, and it seems Morgan is someone with a certain power in camp, but if they think they can boss me around, they’re wrong.  
“What, talk with a man?” I ask not without a good dose of hostility.  
“Not a man, an O’Driscoll” he remarks.  
“It's always a man.”  
“They're bad people.”  
“Because you are saints, right?”  
“I didn't say that” he chuckles.  
“We are bad too, but we ain't like them.”  
I hope that with all myself.  
“You're sure you know how to use that gun, don't you?” he asks.  
There it is, the question I’m sure he’s been keeping in his mind for a while. He still wants to know if I won’t be a dead weight.  
As an answer, I just smile and keep doing it until I’m sure he sees me. Sometimes a gesture is more meaningful than words.   
I know far to well how to use it.

We reach Blackwater in complete silence after our short hostile exchange. There, there is a ridge right above the city from which the two men I’ve seen at the saloon in Valentine are leaning, watching it through some binoculars.   
Morgan is the first to dismount and approach them, taking place right in the middle. I linger a little next to Isabella, listening to their distant conversation as Morgan asks where Sean is. Then, I walk closer too and sit on a rock next to the… I think he could be Mexican.   
He moves his eyes on me and seems a little taken aback by my sudden appearance.   
“Who are you?” he asks.  
Next to Morgan, the man who looks like a Native American watches in my direction too.   
“Faraday, Fred Faraday. I’ve joined the group yesterday.”  
“Javier Escuella.”  
“Charles Smith.”  
“So you’re here to help?” asks the former.   
“I hope so.”  
“Has anyone been into Blackwater to see how things lie?” asks Morgan ignoring us.  
“Place is crawling with Pinkertons, bounty hunters, pictures of Dutch and Hosea” says Escuella.  
“As I told you, Morgan. The entire city is looking for you” I remark.  
“Ahhh...we got a lot of money sitting in that town” he complains.  
“And that's where it's gonna remain, for now” replies the Mexican as Morgan reaches a hand to Smith and asks for the binoculars.  
“Why haven't they hanged Sean, I wonder?” he says watching towards the city.  
“I think he's bait or they want to trial him publicly” replies Smith.  
“I guess the former, if they know you'd come to save him” I say.  
“Gentlemen. Oh! And lady. With whom I have the pleasure to talk?”  
I startle and turn around. It’s the man with the mustache I’ve already seen in Blackwater and that they have addressed as Trelawny.  
“Fred Faraday. You must be Mr. Trelawny.”  
“The very same. Sean has been moved up the Upper Montana, then to a federal prison out West” he adds.  
“Damn” swears Morgan in a whisper.  
“Well, we can't be rescuing people from some federal prison. We either rescue him now or… cut him loose.”  
“We're not cutting anyone loose” replies Smith frowning at him.  
“Of course not” whispers Morgan, but something in his voice tells me he's thinking about it.  
“Ike Skelding's boys are moving him to a camp nearby before handing him over to the government” Trelawny informs us.  
“Maybe this is our opportunity” I say looking at them all.  
Yes, this is the right thing to do. If I want to be accepted, I must prove myself trustworthy and useful.  
“Yes I think… we should be able to stop them before they get to camp” says Morgan and immediately after he gives us all the directions.   
Charles Smith is sent to the other side of the valley so to surround them and have them both sides. I’m commanded to go with him.   
I stand up and follow him to the horses. As I mount up I immediately notice his horse is an appaloosa just like my Isabella. Nothing strange, it’s a pretty common breed.   
We ride silently near a ravine with the river beneath us. Then, we cross the valley and climb the mountain. When he finds the perfect spot, we dismount and take position.  
It all happens in a religious silence.   
I study his quiet figure as he kneels down and pulls out the binoculars to watch in the distance. I take my place next to him and narrow my eyes to try and spot a sign of people or horses.   
“Do you know how to fight?”  
He asks that without looking at me, still focused on the landscape around us. I look at his profile, studying his traits and noticing a big scar on his cheek.   
“Of course. Why do you think I'm here?” I answer as my mind starts roaming to find the cause for that scar.  
“Things could get bad.”  
“I can handle myself.”  
The silence that fells after is absolute, so all that’s left me to do is look at the river beneath us until, finally, something happens.  
A boat shows up, gliding on the green water and sailing in our direction.  
“Sean must be in there” says Smith and again I turn to look at his profile, but without being able to understand if he’s talking to me or just to himself.  
“What are you doing here, anyway? Who are you?” he asks.  
“I work for Van der Linde, just like you. I'm here because he told me to.”  
“What we do is not a job, it's a lifestyle. There's nothing else but crimes and survival.”  
This time I really don’t know what to answer.  
“I guess” I just say frowning to myself.  
The boat docks on the left shore of the river. Three men come out of it, one of them is hooded and tied.  
“There they are” says Smith stretching up a hand to signal our presence to the others.  
Under us, another two men come from the canyon and take the hood from the tied man, showing a redhead. Then, they push him onto the ground.  
"Let's go" says Smith, standing up.  
My feet intuitively follow him back to the horses while my eyes keep glancing at Sean as he’s dragged up the canyon.  
Charles takes another gun from his saddle-sack and then we move, fast and quiet. I pull out my revolver and check the charge, even if I already know the bullets are all still there.   
I can’t lie to myself, I am nervous. It’s been a while since I killed my last man, and he definitely deserved that. But these people, I don’t know them, I don’t know if they’re good or bad. What I know is that they’re going to die so that I can prove myself to a bunch of outlaws. How strange is life sometimes.  
The fight starts away from us. All I’m able to hear are shots and yells. Smith speeds up and we find ourselves right behind three men standing on the edge of the canyon and shooting towards the bottom of it, surely against Morgan and the Mexican.  
I don’t think much before I cock the revolver and shoot to the back of the head of one of the three. He falls and the same does another one, hit on his lower back by Charles next to me.   
The third one realizes what's happening and turns around to point his rifle at me. I’m ready to fire again, but in the meantime Smith runs near him and punches him in the face. They start to fight and Charles, to my big surprise, maybe because he’s well built, maybe because he’s well trained, gets the better of him in no time.  
After he falls, I just have the time to think we’re done that the gunshots start again. A little bit further there are another two men shooting down the canyon.   
I come from behind, kicking one on the lower back and trying to make him fall from the edge, but he just screams and turns around, trying to hit me with the back of his rifle. With a lucky dodge, I take my knife, but I don't have time to do anything else because a bullet hits him on the head and he falls at my feet.   
Morgan and his friends are staring at me, the other man already on the ground, and I nod as to thank them without any idea of who has shot the man.   
From their eyes I understand they haven’t seen many women fight in their lives.  
“Come on. To the camp” orders Morgan walking past me.  
“I'll take the left side, Charles. You go right, okay?” whispers Javier as we silently reach the tents.  
“I guess” he answers.  
After a glance at Morgan, waiting for some order that doesn’t come, I follow Smith. We succeed in approaching the camp where they’ve brought Sean without being seen and take cover behind some boxes.  
“Where's Sean, you bastards?” shouts someone and immediately after a hell of bullets starts.  
The loud bangs of pistols and rifles come from everywhere and I summon all my courage to stick out from my cover and aim to someone. I miss a couple of times and maybe succeed to hit three people in total, but it doesn’t matter: the others are doing most of the work for me.  
“On top of the tower, who's got a shot on him?” I hear Javier yelling far away from me.  
A quick look from behind the box at the man on the top of the water tower makes me realize I won’t be able to reach him with my revolver. I need a rifle.  
Suddenly, I feel the need to take a decision: leave him to the others, or make an act of courage and deal with him. But why should I deal with him? To prove myself of course. The problem is: I’m not a good shooter with a rifle.   
Oh Lord, I’m can’t believe I’m thinking it but… I’ll take my chances.  
Not too far away from me there’s a rifle on the ground, right next what now is only a corpse.   
“Smith, I need cover fire” I say to the man by my side.  
“Go!”  
The movement I do to get up is extremely difficult, just like my body is trying to pull me down as a warning to save my life. Despite it, I fight the instinct and run. I don’t know what’s happening around me, I just run, and run and then throw myself on the ground behind some other cover, grabbing the rifle in the fall.   
The blood thumping against my ears, I breath heavily as I feel the pain on my right side where I hit the ground. Apart from there, I feel no other injuries.   
The sounds around me are muffled, the bodies of friends and foes move around me, but I’m not able to understand what is what.   
I stand up and place the rifle on my shoulder, tightening the grip.   
The first shot misses the target and the recoil hits me so hard that the back of the rifle slips from my shoulder.   
The second shot misses again of just an inch, but the man on the tower this time looks around, trying to understand who’s shooting.   
With the third shot, I know for sure the recoil has left a bad bruise on my shoulder, and I know for sure the man on the tower now has seen me.   
My breathing becomes irregular as I start to picture myself dead. If I don’t hit him fast that’s what I’ll be.  
I shoot again and again as he turns around and takes the aim in my direction. My hands are incapable to keep the aim stable and with my last shot I give up all the hope I had to take him out.  
But maybe I’ve given up too soon, because it’s exactly with the last one that I hit him. I hear a scream and I see his shape fall from the top of the tower and land with a thud.  
I throw the rifle on the ground next to me and my chest becomes much more lighter, so light that I feel a smile incurve my lips.   
I can’t believe I did it! I was dead, truly dead, if the luck wasn’t on my side.   
I follow the others as they head towards Sean, hung to a tree from his feet.   
“Are you gonna get me down from here?” he shouts with a voice full of arrogance. I’ve got a feeling that I’m not going to like him.   
Morgan takes his knife and cuts the rope that ties him making him fall to the ground. Then, he sets him free.  
“You know, you're a lot less ugly from that other angle, Arthur” he jokes and I also notice a strong annoying Irish accent. I’m definitely not going to like him.  
“Come on” says Morgan, helping him to get up.  
“Do I get a hug, Arthur? A warm embrace for a lost brother, now found?” adds the Irish when Morgan turns his back at him to go away.  
Arthur laughs putting a hand on his shoulder.  
“You know, nothing means more to me than this gang. The bond we share it's the most real thing to me. I would kill for it, I would happily die for it, but in spite of all that I would have easily left you here to rot if Charles hadn't stopped me” he says with a serious face.  
So it’s just like I thought: he would have abandoned him. He talks about the bond between them just like they were family, but he would have left him to die, or worst, so easily? What kind of group have I joined?  
“I don't believe a word of that, Arthur” laughs Sean.  
“Get him out of here” exclaims Morgan taking him from a shoulder and pushing him roughly away, towards Javier who takes his arm to drag him in the direction of the horses.  
“You're a great man, Arthur Morgan, the kind young whippersnapper can really admire” Sean keeps saying maybe unaware of being so annoying.   
Then, when the Mexican finally makes him turn around, Sean sees me and his eyes widen in surprise.  
“Who are you?” he asks in amazement.   
“A new member” I say without enthusiasm.   
“I didn't know Dutch's recruiting young women. Don't we have enough at the camp?”  
“We should split up” Morgan says ignoring him. Everybody is ignoring him.   
I turn around as he gives his indications on how to go back to camp. I want to check if there is something interesting, and especially, if some of these men are still alive, so I can ask some questions.   
The bodies are numerous, but that’s just what they are: corpses. No-one’s left alive and I don’t have the time to loot them all to see if they have something in their pockets, so I give up on finding something for now. I still have a lot of time.  
It doesn’t matter how far away I walk from them, the annoying accent of Sean always reaches my ear, until I hear them mount on their horses and go away. But I’m not alone, yet. The sound of steps behind me is the sign that someone is still here with me.  
“You alright?” asks Morgan’s voice as I kneel down to take some ammunitions from one of the bodies.  
“Why shouldn't I?” I ask in turn.  
He takes a pause that makes me wonder what he’s thinking.   
I probably shouldn’t give my back at him.  
“You know how to shoot” he remarks.  
“Thank you…?”  
“Serious. You've done a great job with the man on the tower.”  
What is this now? A way to make me feel accepted? I don’t need it.  
“Yeah I… I've never really learned how to use a rifle, so it took me a little. Here, take this” I say handing him a ring I've found on one of the corpses and that he takes from my hands.  
“Don't you want it?” he asks.  
“What should I do with that?”  
“Sell it, you can make some money.”  
“Not interested” I say getting up and turning to look at him.  
“What kind of criminal are you?” he frowns.  
“I'm not. Anyway, there's not much here. I'm going back.”  
He follows me back to the horses and I have the impression he’s keeping to watch me carefully with every step I take, maybe curious, maybe distrustful.   
We mount up and take the road back to camp all in complete silence. I expect him to speed up any minute now, but instead he speaks.  
“So, why you do that?”  
“What?”  
“Why you're here? Why you want to be part of a group of criminals if you're not a criminal? I mean, if you've never done anything bad, why start now?”  
Just like yesterday, the wrong statement makes me laugh. These people really think they know me already.   
“I've never said that.”  
“And what exactly have you done? Stole an apple?”  
“This is no business of yours” I cut short as I start to feel too much pressed.  
“Hey, you should show some respect.”  
I sigh. Why can’t he just mind his own business?  
“It's a story I don't like to talk about” I say with a tone that should make him understand I’m done with it.

Perhaps it’s just a feeling, but the return seems to take us much more time.   
The sun slowly lowers behind our backs until it almost sets completely as we reach the camp. In the twilight, I hear voices, laughs and music coming from the tents. Shadows of people walk back and forth carrying chairs and boxes.   
Van der Linde welcomes us with a broad smile as soon as we dismount our horses. Well, he welcomes Arthur. I hang a little bit behind, petting my Isabella and giving her a treat.  
“We having a party?” asks Morgan.  
“Maybe, just a little one” chuckles Dutch.  
“Great” he replies going away, so now Van der Linde’s field of view is open and he can perfectly see me.  
“Miss!”  
“Good evening Dutch” I say walking closer and trying not to appear intimidated by his presence. I really don’t feel comfortable in speaking with him right now.  
“The boys told me you've made a great job today.”  
Right, just what I needed. Now I know voices travel real fast in this place.  
“Well... Just what I had to” I murmur looking at my feet.  
Right at this moment, like a salvation sent from above to spare me the embarrassment, some loud yells from the other side of camp distract us. Sean is standing on a box and almost everybody has gathered around him.  
“Oh, no speeches, please!” shouts someone in the crowd.  
“...uncle Sean is back... And don't you worry, Miss Grimshaw, you old crone. I'll keep them girls in line, if I have to whip 'em, I will!” is saying the Irish.  
“Did you get a bump on the head?” jokes one of the girls.  
Intrigued, and hoping to escape Dutch’s judging eyes, I move closer to hear better. Crossing my arms on my chest and frowning slightly, I listen to Sean’s wonderful speech.   
“And don't you worry, Mr. Pearson, you drunk old shit bag. It'll be nothing but… the finest game in the pot, now Dead Eye Macguire's back!”  
“Yeah, takes one to know one, Macguire" replies Pearson from a distance making me smile.  
“And don't worry about nothing Miss Grimshaw, we'll have this camp running like clockwork. I love you bastards… have fun. Have lots of fun!”  
Obviously drunk, he stumbles down from the box and finishes with a loud burp.  
“Charming” I murmur to myself.  
A deep giggling from my right side makes me turn in that direction and I notice Dutch is still standing next to me. Again, his presence makes me nervous and I immediately move away.  
Pearson’s boiling pot in the distance reminds me that, except for that coffee this morning, I haven’t been eating anything all day and maybe it’s better if I put something in my stomach.   
I take two ladleful of stew and, raising my eyes from the pot, I see Kieran tied at the tree. My mind goes back to the conversation I've had with Morgan a couple of hours ago.  
They don't want me to show him some kindness and compassion. They don't even feed him. I don’t think that anyone in Kieran’s place would like to be treated like this, if he was a prisoner. Van der Linde in the first place.  
How wise can it be to do something I’m not supposed to do? I must gain their trust not push them away, but at the same time, the sight of this sorry bastard affects me.   
“Hey, how are you?” I ask walking closer.  
“Good... as good as this can be.”  
I stare at him for a while: his face is hollowed and his eyes are red.  
I wonder what would happen if I do that. Would I get in trouble? Better a punishment than seeing him like this?  
“You know” I say putting a hand on his shoulder.  
“Today we are celebrating. I don't reckon it's a problem if you eat something, too.”  
He looks at me, worried.  
“You'll get into trouble” he whispers.  
“No, I don't think so.”  
Yes, I probably will, and I don’t even know if he’s worth it.  
I hand him a spoonful. He looks around and then, still hesitant, takes some. We finish the stew, a spoon each.  
“Go now or you'll miss the party because of me” he says in the end.  
“I thought one of the parties rules was that anyone can do what he wants.”  
“Yeah, well… I don't want to put you into trouble. Go.”  
“If you insist. Goodnight Kieran.”  
I bring the plate to the kitchen and there I find Mrs. Adler and Abigail. Their faces aren’t exactly happy.  
“Hello, aren’t you enjoying the party?” I ask hoping to restart the conversation of this morning.  
“We're not exactly in a party mood” answers Sadie, her voice tough and aggressive.  
I open my mouth and assume a hurt expression, stroke as I am by her reaction. Then, without a word, I leave the plate on the table with the others and just go away.  
What have I done to deserve this treatment? Why is she like this?   
I scoff and shake my head. It’s a party for God’s sake. I don’t want to feel resentment. Not now, not today.  
I take a bottle from one of the half empty boxes, open it and take a sip, frowning immediately after and forcefully swallowing the liquid.  
Where the hell did they buy this awful beer? Well, I don’t think I’ll find anything better around here.   
Taking another sip and trying to get used to the sour taste, I take a look at the dark camp.  
Dutch's dancing near his tent with a woman with red hair who I don't know yet; the old man that everyone calls Uncle - I think no one really knows his name - is singing a song near one of the campfires with Sean, Karen - one of the girls I've seen in Valentine - Miss Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson and Mr. Morgan; Javier Escuella is playing a melody on a guitar with Charles Smith near him; the old reverend, who looks always drunk, passes near me murmuring something incomprehensible; the big man with the stupid look is seated next to another man with long black hair and some scars on his face.  
I have no idea where to go, what to do or what to say. Maybe it’s better if I put some distance between me and them.   
I reach the edge of the camp, and sit right where the land ends, dangling my feet down the upland. Here, the voices and the music are toned down and the stars look brighter. It's a moonless night and the landscape around me is dark. If I look down I can barely see my feet before the absolute nothing. This sight gives me the goosebumps.   
I place the bottle next to me and pull out my gun and a rag, starting to clean it as I use to and ready to face some quiet time.  
“You aren't exactly what they call 'the life of the party’.”  
I startle and only thanks to a miracle I don’t let go of my revolver, losing it in the darkness beneath me. I turn around and greet Hosea Matthews with a furrowed brow.  
“No, I don’t think so. Sorry if I scared you” he chuckles walking closer and sitting next to me.  
“Why aren't you with the others?”  
I take a pause and put my gun back in its holster.  
“I don’t know… I guess I'm a loner.”  
“Today you've done a good job. Arthur told me you did really fine.”  
I've been here for barely a day and everyone knows all already.  
A snort leaves my mouth together with an involuntarily roll of my eyes. He notices my act and changes topic.  
“Anyway, I just wanted to welcome you to the family. Maybe you're not used to have one, but…”  
“Is this what you think Mr. Matthews? That I'm an orphan?” I ask frowning again. They really like to go for conclusions without knowing shit in this place.  
He looks surprised by my sudden severe behavior.  
“Hosea, just Hosea. You said you're alone” he says as an excuse.  
“Yes, but I never told you I've never had a family.”  
He raises his eyebrows, and it’s now that I realize that maybe I said too much. I know what he’s going to ask even before he asks it and suddenly I feel discomfortable at his presence.  
“What happened?”  
I fix my eyes on the darkness around me. Not now. Not yet.   
“You run away?”   
His eyes burn on my face. I open my lips ready to answer, but as they tremble, I become aware I can’t utter a single word. I’m trapped, cornered, with my mind completely blank.   
I don’t know how he can do it, but somehow he understands that the answer to his question is a no.  
“Some... disease?” he asks, but again, there’s something in my gestures, or maybe my eyes, that make him understand that the answer is negative.   
And then, silence. A heavy dark silence falls between us, so interminable that I think the sun is goin to rise any moment now. But at the same time this silence gives me the chance to recover my ability to talk. I moisten my lips and clear my throat.  
“I think I'll go to bed. Goodnight Mr. Matth… uhm, Hosea.”  
“Goodnight, and… welcome to the family.”  
Yeah, sure.


	3. Two Peaceful Days

I open my eyes and, for a moment, I lose conscience of where I am. There is a strange silence that makes me believe I’m not in the camp anymore. No voices, no footsteps, no jingle of bottles or cups, just a few birds somewhere in the distance.   
I get up and walk outside to find a camp half empty with just a couple of people awake and I wonder what time did they go to bed last night.  
First thing, some coffee. This time I find the coffee pot abandoned to itself and I immediately pour myself some.   
As I take some slow sips, tasting the dark liquid that feels like life itself, I spot Miss Grimshaw in the distance, busy cleaning a table from the empty bottles be left there.   
Maybe I should help. That or… idle around lost in my thoughts. No, I promised to myself I should never get lost in my thoughts. It’s too painful, and dangerous. I have to keep always busy.  
I leave the cup on the table and reach the woman.  
“Morning Miss Grimshaw. May I help you?” I ask politely.  
“I thought I’d never hear these words! Start with the plates, we'll need them for lunch.”  
When I get to the kitchen, someone else is already waiting for me.  
“Morning Miss. Would you mind helping me with the stew today? Mrs. Adler is unwell” says Mr. Pearson showing up from behind the supply cart.  
“Of course, let me finish here first” I reply pointing at the pile of dirty dishes.  
I spend my day helping a little here and a little there. Take the water, move the hay, take care of the horses, chop the wood… It never ends. And then no one seems willing to work: the girls idle the day away: someone reads, someone embroils… Men are worse, they spend the entire day drinking and sleeping. The only one that I've actually seen working is Charles, apart from Miss Grimshaw and Mr. Pearson, of course. Sean, who promised so many things yesterday, is lying under a tree doing I don't know what with a knife.  
I can’t complain though: more work for me means a better chance to become acquainted with them and to gain their trust. Soon, I hope to be able to ask them questions without making them suspicious.   
Besides, I must try and get as much work outside the camp as I can, so to scout the place, meet new people, maybe members of other gangs, other criminals, whoever can give me the information I need.  
For lunch I take something from the cart where they keep all the food. While I eat, I realize I haven't seen neither Morgan nor Hosea for the entire morning. I guess their out for some job.   
In the afternoon I decide to take care of the horses, and especially my Isabella, who needs a good grooming. She’s not the only one though. There is more than one horse which is not exactly clean, like the big brown plow horse who belongs to Bill, the man who gave me the warm welcome when I came here.  
I’m just cleaning the mantle of one of them when, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a shape standing still next to me.   
I turn around and smile to the little boy. He looks like a sweet child, with those sad eyes and little nose. Son of Abigail, from my understanding, and the man with the scarred face, John. I wonder what kind of life he has been living, if he has ever had a real childhood, like all children deserve.   
“Do you like horses?” I ask.  
“Yes.”  
Well, a child of few words.  
“Do you know how to ride one?”  
He shakes his head.  
“Would you like to go riding with me sometimes?”  
He stares without answering. He’s diffident and cold. Really a strange kid.  
“I'm Fred, by the way. What's your name?”  
“Jack.”  
“And tell me, what kind of games do you like?”  
“I don't know. Uncle Hosea reads me a book sometimes.”  
And smart for his age. I wouldn’t give him more than four or five years. Kids that age aren’t interested in pages covered in words.  
“Ah, you like books?”  
He nods.  
“So, you like stories.”  
“Yes.”  
“Good, I know plenty. Would you like if I tell you one from time to time?”  
“Okay.”  
I smile at him but he doesn't smile back. He doesn’t trust a stranger, as it should be. 

At the end of the day I sit next to Kieran and eat my stew, sneaking a spoonful in his mouth every now and then. I keep trying to find a solution to his situation, scheming what he could do to gain Dutch’s trust, but everything seems too dangerous to him and as he listens to me, his eyes fill with tears.  
"I'm sorry, I don't know what else I can do” I say.  
“Miss!”  
I turn around and watch Dutch’s figure, looking at me from the distance with his hands on his hips. His severe face makes me understand my helpful disposition towards Kieran hasn’t passed unnoticed.  
“I have to go” I say in a rush and leave Kieran, still unsure if what I’m doing will cause me too much trouble for what it’s worth.   
I reach Dutch with the curiosity to know what he’s about to tell me and the fear to being tied to the stake like poor Kieran.   
He doesn’t seem truly angry, just a little upset maybe? He puts a hand on my shoulder and pushes me gently away.  
“I've heard you're really getting busy” he says with a tone that demonstrates false tranquillity.  
“Just what's necessary” I cut short.  
“Ah! I like this modesty. But listen, what I don't like is this… contact with the O'Driscoll. I think I've told you already.”  
Here’s the reproach.  
I stop walking and look at him right in the eye thinking about some kind of excuse that could justify my behavior, maybe tell him I’m just playing some sort of mental game to make Kieran confess. In the end, I choose for something between the truth and a lie.  
“You know, Mr. Van der Linde, sometimes kindness works better than violence.”  
“Oh women! With their kindness and love!” he exclaims with a giggle.  
“I don't think you understand what I mean” I say lowering my voice and taking a step closer to him.  
“Sometimes we need to let people believe in what they want to in order to reach our purpose. An indirect approach could lead to a better result.”  
In less than two seconds, his eyes make a significant change. First they narrow, then they widen, and finally they dart from me to Kieran and vice versa.  
“I see…” he murmurs.  
I smile. The victory is mine, it worked, I made him believe that I'm trying to make Kieran speak. Or at least I want to believe he fell for that. Maybe he didn’t and just like me he’s pretending.   
“Goodnight Dutch” I say before leaving him.  
If he believed me or not it doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure that from now on, my visits to Kieran won’t be seen in the same way.   
Even though I said goodnight I soon realize it’s still early to go to bed. Looking around me I notice that most of the people are gathered around the main campfire, or seated at the tables. I really don’t feel in the mood for social conversation and I prefer sitting by the other fire, the external one that they use for the guard duty.   
There’s only one person there: I recognize him from the distance with his long black hair and his big shoulders.  
“Evening” I say sitting down next to Charles Smith.  
“Evening” he murmurs back without even looking at me, as always. It’s like he already knows who’s coming to sit with him.  
I also notice he’s working on something while he’s seated here. Some arrows.  
“You're good at hunting, aren't you?” I ask without thinking.  
He looks up to frown at me, maybe asking himself the reason for this question.  
“Enough” he replies before focusing again on the arrow.  
“With the bow?” I ask again.  
“Of course.”  
“Sorry, stupid question” I chuckle and cover my face with a hand.   
He keeps working in complete silence, but I know for sure he’s aware I’m staring at him, at his capable hands tightening the feathers around the wood, at the muscle of his arms contracting as he makes this or that movement, at his profile and that strange scar on his cheek that intrigues me so much.  
Since I met him, the impression he gave me was of a fine man, always working, willing to give a hand, strong and tireless, and skillful.   
Maybe, his skills could be useful. After all there are things I’ve always wanted to learn, but that I never had the chance to acquire.   
“Do you mind teaching me how to hunt with the bow? I know it's odd to ask…” I add when he looks up at me puzzled.  
“...but I'd really like to learn.”  
“Okay. Tomorrow. Early.”  
I widen my eyes. His answer was unexpected and I surely didn’t want him to feel forced to do it. He doesn’t owe me anything.  
“I-I don’t expect you to do it immediately. I’m not in a hurry. And I don’t want to be a burden…”  
“I know, but I’ve got time tomorrow.”  
“Okay then… Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

There she is.  
Yesterday I didn't see her for the entire day, but now she's here again, sipping her coffee with Abigail.  
This woman intrigues me for some kind of arcane mystery. Everybody in this camp looks broken by the terrible life they’ve lived, but she… she’s the worst of, she looks wild, and different.   
“Good morning” I say walking close to them.  
“Morning” replies Abigail while Mrs. Adler simply nods.  
“Mrs. Adler… Sadie, if I can: may I ask you why it looks like you have nothing to do with these people? Oh, I mean no offense” I quickly add to Abigail, but she doesn’t seem hurt anyway.  
“None taken” she says.  
“Sadie is new, just like you. Those O'Driscoll bastards killed her husband and now she has no home and no family.”  
O’Driscoll. I wonder if Kieran has something to do with that. Maybe that’s exactly the reason why he’s tied at that tree.  
Her husband was killed, she’s lost everything and she found herself with a bunch of outlaws. That’s the reason for those eyes, her grief was recent.  
“I’m sorry” I say in the most sympathetic way.  
“Yeah, me too” she replies harshly.  
Oh, Mrs. Adler, if you only knew how much we have in common. I can completely understand you, I can feel that pain that raises from your guts and turns your heart into cold rock.   
“Are you ready? We can't wait any longer.”  
Charles’s voice brings me back to reality. With an understanding look, I say goodbye to the two girls and follow him to the horses.  
“Hello beauty” I whisper to Isabella gently petting her dark mantle.  
“They're good animals. Easy to train and faithful” says Charles doing the same.  
“I noticed” I reply with a smile.  
“What’s the name of yours?”  
“Taima.”  
“Quite a beautiful name.”  
From the way he strokes her and looks at her, I can perfectly tell he has with her the same strong bond I have with my Isabella, a bond that you can only create with a horse after years, and only if you have a big heart.  
We mount up and move north, passing Valentine and reaching the big forest right before the river with the renowned falls.   
We dismount and tie the horses to a low branch of a tree. He takes the bow from the saddle with a couple of arrows and leads the way.  
“You always have to keep your elbow up and both your eyes open” he explains as we both stumble among the carpet of leaves and weeds.  
With my eyes fixed on the ground, carefully watching where I’m going, I don’t realize he has stopped and for a moment I almost risk to bump into him.  
He is standing still, looking around just like he was able to see something I cannot see.   
“Come on, show me” he says turning around and handing me the bow.  
I take it and do as I’m asked, pulling the wire and aiming to nothing. It’s way harder than I thought.  
“Use more strength or the arrow won't even reach your prey.”  
I nod and pull again, this time bringing my arm way back until my wrist reaches my chest.   
“Better” he says studying my position and lightly lifting my elbow.  
“Now, let’s find something.”  
He kneels down, investigating the ground around him just like he’s really able to see things imperceptible to the mainstream human eye.  
“Here you see. These are tracks” he says making me sign to kneel next to him.  
A bunch of disturbed leaves, a broken twig, a little hole in the dirt. For me these clues are nothing but part of the forest ground. For Charles these are obvious signs of the passage of a hare.   
I don’t doubt the master and simply follow his every step until we find the animal.  
Slow and quiet, I take the arrow he’s handing me and take the aim. He just looks at me form a certain distance, maybe analyzing my every movement and, despite my apparent calmness, he’s making me nervous and keen to impress him somehow.   
But being my first try, I can’t help but fail miserably. I don’t pull the wire enough and send the arrow right into the ground.   
I puff with disappointment and let the bow down as the hare darts away.  
“It's not a gun. It's not as simple as pulling the trigger. You have to practice” he says reaching me and helping me to stand.   
“I'll make you one of this” he adds pointing at his bow in my hands.  
“Oh, you don't have to. I'll find one.”  
“Hey, we all need to eat. The more people able to hunt, the better. Don't worry, it won't take me more than a few days.”  
Surprised by his extreme helpfulness, I simply smile at him and for the first time he smiles back at me. Well, it’s not a real smile, just a polite curve of his lips, but it’s something. 

As soon as we get back to camp, I immediately notice the two horses that have been missing for a couple of days: Arthur and Hosea are back.  
I move my eyes from the dirty legs of the animals to the rest of the camp wondering where they have been for all this time.  
There’s no trace of Hosea, but in the distance, talking with none the less than Kieran, there’s Mr. Morgan. Their conversation surely doesn’t seem pleasant and I start to think that something must be wrong. Perhaps he has found something while he was away. Besides, Morgan was the one who told me not to have any contact with ‘The O’Driscoll’, so now I wonder what pushed him to go talk with him.  
Without further hesitation, I walk towards them, half curious half worried for what is about to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So this one is a little shorter and not much interesting, but it's just a moment of transit for more attractive situations, I promise.  
> See you next time!  
> Kudos ;)


	4. Social Call

Out of the corner of my eye I spot another two figures walking in the same direction as mine. I slow down looking at Dutch and Bill approaching Mr. Morgan and Kieran, who now is shrinking on himself, terrorized.  
Something’s definitely wrong.  
“...so how about you tell the truth” Bill is threatening the tied man.  
I stop to watch the scene from a fair distance, crossing my arms on my chest. Dutch glances at me, I guess to understand my intentions, before he focuses completely on Kieran.   
“What you want me to do?” asks Bill.  
"Hurt him! So the next time he opens his mouth it is to tell us what is going on” yells Dutch.  
“Who am I kidding? One of O'Driscoll's boys couldn't open his mouth but he'd tell a lie” he adds with his face only a few inches from Kieran’s.   
In the meantime my mind keeps fighting an impossible battle: should I help him or not? Is he one of the monsters who killed Sadie’s husband, or just a a poor fool who got mixed up? Who is the bad guy here?  
“Kieran” I utter, the word comes automatically out of my mouth.   
Everybody looks at me now and I try to keep the most stoic expression I can fake, without moving my eyes from Kieran’s face.  
“Okay, okay… listen” he says catching again all the attention on him.   
“I know where O'Driscoll's holed up and you're right, he don't like you, any more than you like him. He's at Six Point Cabin.”  
The three men look at each other in surprise.  
“I'll take you there, serious. I don't like him. I mean, I like him even less than I like you. No offense” he adds looking at Dutch.  
“Oh, none taken” he replies and immediately after he moves his eyes on me and he takes a threatening expression.   
Is he judging me or putting me back into my place or maybe he’s just angry at me because I stole his thunder?   
“Okay then, partner. Why don't you take a few of us up there, right know. I got this, Dutch. Should be fun” says Morgan cutting Kieran free.  
“Bring her with you” orders Dutch pointing his finger at me, our eyes still fixed in each other.   
Without flinching I nod slowly, managing to show a strength I’m not sure to have.  
“Alright, let's go” says Arthur pushing Kieran away.  
Like a good second in command, Morgan orders Bill and John to ride with us. The latter will be responsible for Kieran. Every false move, he’s dead. 

According to Kieran’s directions, Six Point Cabin is in the Cumberland Forest, so we follow the path northward. During the entire way, they don’t stop making fun of him, insult him, threat him of death or tremendous mutilation. I stay behind, in silence, neither taking part to the sick game nor defending him.   
He can’t be that bad if he’s helping us, can he? Moreover, who said he is one of the men responsible of what happened to Mrs. Adler? He does not look like someone who could do something like that. Not all criminals are the same. Some of them are just because they have to.  
My head is eaten by the thoughts when Morgan slows up to walk beside me.  
“You haven't said a word” he remarks.  
I don’t answer, I don’t know what to say. I don’t reckon it’s wise to tell him I don’t like the way they are treating Kieran.  
“Dutch wasn't happy of your intrusion.”  
“Yeah, I saw that” I sigh.  
"Listen, you don't have to undermine his authority…”  
“I was just doing what I thought was right.”  
“Yeah well, calm down” he says annoyed before speeding up again to reach the others.  
It’s only when we pass Valentine that the conversation my criminal fellows are having diverts from the threats and insults and becomes interesting.  
“I was with a bad lot, I know, and I’m trying to make amends, if I can” Kieran is saying.  
“You don't know the half” John rebukes him.  
“I do know Colm killed Dutch's sweetheart.”  
“And that's the man you chose to ride with. A woman killer.”  
“Well, it was after he'd killed his brother… and the way I understood it…”  
“Making excuses for the man and his crimes. What kind of trap you leading us into, boy?”  
And here we go, the threats start again.   
So the O'Driscoll and Dutch hate each other so much that they started a real feud. Dutch killed Colm’s brother and Colm… killed Dutch’s woman… maybe the one he had before the ginger.  
“This is it. The cabin's just the other side of this hill” says Kieran interrupting my thoughts.  
We dismount the horses and approach the wood. From the hill we have a proper view on the distant clearing with the cabin in it. I count twenty men, maybe more considering those inside the house.  
“Are these fellers armed?” asks Morgan.  
“Armed. Drunk. Wary of strangers. Yup” answers Kieran.  
“And Colm O’Driscoll?”  
“Oh, he'll be holed up in his cabin. Be passed out, booze blind, likely as not.”  
“Over there, someone's coming” Bill warns us.  
We all lower our heads and look at the three men walking right in front of us. Like a flash of light, John takes Kieran from behind, putting a hand on his mouth and with the other points his pistol to his head. He wants to avoid him from calling for help.   
One of the men stops to piss against a tree while the others wait for him with their backs turned to us. Morgan and Bill move silently towards them and take them out without been seen. Then, they make us sign to reach them, so John and I leave Kieran behind and head towards the hideout.  
Arthur and John manage to kill a few more silently before they actually see us and start shooting.   
The trees give us good shelter and the fact that they are all drunk and with a terrible aim helps us finish quickly. Or at least as quick as it can be to kill twenty men.  
As I take shelter and recharge my revolver, I realize I’m not feeling sorry for these men. I’m taking their lives and feeling nothing.  
That’s because you know they deserve it. It’s not the first time you meet O’Driscolls, you know what kind of animals they are. Besides, they can consider this as a little revenge for Sadie.   
“That’s it! They're turning tail!” I hear John shouting as the last men alive runs into the woods.  
Breathing deeply and drying the sweat from my forehead I turn around and smile at Kieran who in the meantime has joined us.  
“I'm going to check the cabin. Search out here. Make sure we ain't missed anything" says Arthur.  
I seize the chance to take a look at the corpses, looking for ammunitions, which I recently started to consume more often, and, most importantly, useful information: piece of papers, letters, newspapers cuttings, everything, really everything could give me a clue about where I have to begin my search.  
I’m looting an asshole of O’Driscoll when a really close single shot makes me jerk up and pull out my revolver.   
John and Bill by my side do the same and we exchange a couple of worried looks before realizing Kieran isn’t with us.  
As we run in the direction of the shot, inside my mind a thousand of different scenarios make their appearance. The most plausible ones are: Arthur shot Kieran, or worst, Kieran shot Arthur to snitch on us.  
When I get there, I’m surely not prepared to what I see. Arthur is laying on his back, Kieran is standing, both his hands are holding a revolver still smoking, collapsed on the ground with a wound on his belly bleeding out to death there’s a man, an O’Driscoll, and next to him the shotgun he didn’t have the time to use.  
“You alright?” asks Kieran, his voice trembling for the strong emotion.  
“Sure, thank you” answers Arthur.  
He stands up and, after an angry glance to the man who tried to kill him, he walks inside the cabin.  
“Good job” I say to Kieran with a complicity wink.   
He smiles back, but his relief doesn’t last long. When Arthur comes out from the cabin, his frowning face makes me understand he hasn’t found what he was looking for.  
“Come here!” he yells to Kieran.  
“What?” he asks, his face again a mask of terror.  
“You set us up.”  
“No, I didn’t.”  
“Yes, you did. Colm ain't here!”  
Morgan points his gun to Kieran's head. I startle and tense up, ready to intervene, but then the doubt sneaks inside my mind.   
What if he really lead us here to make his friends kill us, and in the end, seeing that things weren’t going the way he expected, he decided to switch his position again and play friendly by saving Arthur’s life?  
“HE WAS HERE! I SWEAR....I SW... If I was setting you up I-I wouldn't have saved your life” he tries to defend himself.  
“It’s a good point Arthur” says Bill.  
Morgan looks at him and sighs.  
“Alright then, go on, get out of here” he says putting down the gun.  
“Eh?” exclaims Kieran.  
“I won't kill ya.”  
“I didn't set you up.”  
“Get lost.”  
“Get lost?”  
“I'm letting you run away, now go on, get out of here” yells Morgan grabbing Kieran from his shirt and throwing him away.  
“That's as good as killing me. Out there… without you… Colm O'Driscoll's gonna lose his mind about this.”  
Kieran moves his begging eyes on me and suddenly I feel too involved not to say anything. I pushed him to talk, I took his side, comforted him when he needed to, I can’t step back now.  
“So?” asks Morgan with disinterest.  
“So he can be one of us. It’s not a bad idea” I say moving in front of Kieran to face Morgan.  
“Oh, give me a break” sighs Morgan bringing a hand to cover his face.  
“I-I know it's not my decision, but… he helped us. We can't leave him like this” I add.  
“Alright then. But I'm warning you. If you…” he says walking past me to point his finger at Kieran.  
“I know, I know” he replies lifting his hands in the air.  
“Come on, let's get to camp” orders Morgan.  
“So you got the cash then?” asks Kieran.  
“What cash?”   
“Yeah, there's usually some cash… in the chimney.”  
“I'll check it. Rest of you get to camp, quick.”  
“See Arthur, I ain't so bad” jokes Kieran.  
“Hey, Bill... you tell Dutch old Kieran ain't worth killing, just yet” says Arthur before walking inside again.  
Before he follows John and Bill to the horses, Kieran and I exchange another smile.  
I really hope I did the right thing. I really hope he has nothing to do with Sadie’s husband and that he is really the nice person I figured in my mind.   
Now that I think about it, there would be a way to be sure of it.  
With a last glance at the three men heading to the horses, I walk in the opposite direction and get inside the cabin. Morgan is already checking the chimney.   
“I thought I said 'rest of you get to camp’” he says when he notices me.  
“Err… yes. I wanted to ask you something.”  
I move around the room taking a look. There is a table at the centre with some cards and money on it. They were playing.  
“You know, when someone gives you an order you're supposed to follow it” he remarks ignoring what I said.  
“So what’s the difference between living free as you do and a 'normal' life” I answer a little bothered by his lack of attention to my request.  
“Being free don't mean 'do as you please’.”  
“No, but it means you have a choice.”  
I raise my look from the table and meet his eyes.   
“What you wanted to ask?”  
“Was Kieran with you when Sadie’s husband died?”  
“Why do you care?” he replies turning his back at me and kneeling to reach the inside of the chimney.  
“I’m just curious” I lie.  
“Then ask him.”  
I sigh. Why can’t he just answer the fucking question?  
“I don’t…”  
“Trust him?”  
We exchange another look.   
He knows. He has understood everything.   
“No, he wasn’t with us. We found him some days after” he says taking the money out of the chimney and putting it inside his sack.  
I can’t help but feeling immensely relieved. Thank God, my idea of him wasn’t wrong.  
A sudden noise distracts me. They seem to be horses.  
I run to the little window, only source of light inside the room, and watch outside. There are five men, all armed. Who's run away brought some friends.  
“Shit” swears Arthur between his teeth as he reaches my side.  
“Let's go” I whisper and head to the door.  
With my back attached to the wall, I slip outside and call Isabella with a click of my tongue.   
As Morgan calls his horse, we take the reins and lead them out of the wood, avoiding to mount up and being probably noticed. Only when we find ourselves back on the hills and finally feel out of danger, we climb up and ride back to camp.

“I’m going to speak with Dutch.”  
That’s what he says as soon as we dismount. For all the way back, he hasn’t said anything, and as soon as we reach camp he leaves me with barely a word.   
I drop behind, near the horses, where Kieran is petting one.   
“See? I told you everything would be alright” I say drawing closer.  
“Thank you. If it wasn't for you, they probably would have killed me.”  
“I don't think so, but… happy to be of any help. And that you're still with us” I add patting him friendly on the shoulder.  
The sound of distant hooves catches our attention. There’s a horse running like crazy in our direction through the thick wood, a boy riding it.  
“They got Micah! Dutch… Arthur…”  
He stops by my side, jumps down from the saddle and, without giving me or Kieran a look, he runs to Dutch’s tent.  
“What's going on?” asks Van der Linde coming out of it followed by Morgan.  
“They got Micah. He's been arrested for murder. He was in Strawberry…” says the boy barely breathing and leaning his hands on his knees.  
“It's okay, son. Breathe” Dutch tries to calm him.  
I take some steps in their direction, eager to listen more.  
Micah… Just the mention of this name reminds me of something.  
“They nearly lynched me. They… they got Micah in the sheriff's in Strawberry and there's talk of hanging him” says the boy taking some deep breaths between a word and the other.  
“Here's hoping” says Morgan.  
“Arthur” Dutch scolds him.  
“What? That fool brought this on himself. You know my feelings about him, Dutch.”  
“Who’s Micah?” asks Kieran next to me.  
“I'm not quite sure” I answer.  
“No, i ain't saving that fool” is saying Morgan.  
“I can't go. My face will be all over West Elisabeth. I am asking. He would do it for you” says Dutch.  
“I don't think he would, but… fine alright. You okay, Lenny?” asks Morgan to the boy who now is seated at a table.  
“Yeah, course I'm okay.”  
“You don't seem okay.”  
“You take that kid into town. Valentine, not Strawberry. Get him drunk. And Arthur… no crazy business” orders Dutch.  
“I've given that up.”  
“And you get Micah out of that jail” Dutch ends with authority.  
Morgan sighs and lowers his head, resigned.  
He and Lenny walk right in front of me to reach the horses and I exchange a look with both of them. For a moment I’m sure Lenny wants to ask me who I am, due to the fact that we have never seen each other before, but he doesn’t.   
Silent and with his head low he reaches his horse, mounts up and follows Morgan into the wood.  
I go back to my Isabella, my head still full of the recent happenings.   
This Micah - where have I read this name? - he's in jail because of murder. Why doesn't Morgan want to save him? Aren’t they friends? Part of the same group? Family? If he was ready to cut loose Sean, just imagine someone he doesn’t even like.   
After the sunset, I sit next to the central campfire with a plate of stew in my hands, but I don’t eat. My eyes are lost in the flames.   
Where? Where have I read that goddamn name? Micah… Micah…  
“You're one of those people who tries to see things in the fire?”  
I raise my eyes and frown at Uncle.  
“No, I was just… thinking” I answer putting some stew inside my mouth.  
“A pretty girl like you shouldn't think. It will ruin your beautiful face.”  
“This is the worst bullshit I've ever heard” I laugh with my mouth full.  
“Uncle, are you annoying this poor girl?” says Javier sitting with us. He has brought the guitar with him and he starts touching slightly the cords, to check the sound I think.   
“Can you play it?” he asks when he notices that I'm staring at it.  
“Barely. I knew someone who could do that.”  
“Who?” asks Uncle.  
“My father” I answer plainly, taking more stew.  
“Do you know any songs?”  
“Plenty. We used to make them up at the ranch. One of the hands was really good at it.”  
“Can we hear something?” asks Javier.  
“Better not” I say with a scoff.  
At the same moment, Sean comes to sit with us. He is dirty, and beaten, like he’s been thrown into the ground during a fight, and he looks disconsolate.  
“You alright, son?” asks Uncle.  
“I spent the entire day trying to collect the debts for Strauss, but those bastards really don't want to pay. A woman in Emerald Ranch called his man to beat me instead of paying me. He needs to send someone else.”  
The information I just received makes the blood in my veins freeze.   
“Debts?” I exclaim.  
“T-this Strauss is a…”  
“Money lender, yes” Uncle says for me.  
A lump in my throat and a strange difficulty in breathing are the signs of the beginning of a feeling I know way too well, a feeling that brings me back to a year ago, to the face of a man I hated, and to my first killing.   
“Are you alright?”  
A usurer. Here in camp. How can they…? How…?  
My head feels heavy, my entire body feels heavy.   
“Hey, is everything okay? Did I say something wrong?”  
I can’t stay here. I need air, I need to lay down, I need to be alone.  
“Hey.”  
Javier’s hand on my shoulder makes me jump.  
“Whoa, what happened?”  
“Nothing… just…”  
I stand up letting the plate with the stew fall onto the ground. With my legs like stone, I get away as fast as I can, pursued by the memories.


	5. Envy & Friendship

Today is the day of the washing, something completely new for me. I didn’t believe this camp to be organized in such a way, but with Miss Grimshaw in charge, what else could I expect?  
Everybody changes their clothes, we have to put the dirty ones inside some sacks, load them on a wagon, go down to the Dakota River, not far from camp, and wash them.  
Useless to say the girls don't seem very happy. I’m the first who isn’t happy to go wash someone else’s clothes, but it’s their use so, I have to comply.   
“You take the reins” says Miss Grimshaw when I get to the wagon. She sits next to me while the others climb on the back.  
As we silently head to the stream, I can’t help but think about yesterday night and what I’ve found out about Strauss.   
The thoughts and bad dreams have kept me awake for most of the night. It seems impossible to me that Dutch can accept a usurer in his group. A usurer: a man who limits other people’s freedom exactly like any law or government does. Isn’t it against any of his values? I thought they were different, but now I’m starting to think they’re just like any other group of criminals, ready to do anything just to gain some money.   
Once arrived, we leave the wagon on the side of the street and walk to the shore carrying the heavy sacks of clothes.   
“Come on, to work!”  
At Miss Grimshaw’s command I start to rub and wash.   
Some clothes have blood stains, some are muddy, many smell of alcohol, but I must confess, I imagined them to be definitely in a worst state, considered that they mostly belong to men.  
“Whose pants are these?” asks Mary Beth.  
“Mine” I reply.  
“Why don't you wear dresses like all of us?” asks Karen.  
“Do you have a problem with women who wear pants?” Sadie steps in.  
“No, I just don't understand why she acts like she's special and she wears trousers and goes working with the men and…”  
“I just do what they tell me, I don't act special” I reply a little annoyed by her accusations.  
“All I'm saying is that there is enough work at camp to keep all of us busy” Karen carries on.  
“Look who's talking! You're the one that works like a slave, right?” says Abigail  
“But she's right, there's plenty of work” remarks Tilly.  
“Everybody shut your mouths and mind your business!” yells Miss Grimshaw.  
The discourse focuses on something else. I work silently, without taking part at the conversation and for most part not even listening to them.  
Do they despise me because I work with the men? Why? I’ve only done what Dutch asked me. And moreover, work outside means double fatigue, because Miss Grimshaw surely doesn’t take it in consideration when she commands me to take care of the camp chores. There is truly nothing to be jealous of.  
Not being involved in their discourse also means being faster in washing, so when I’m done, earlier than any one of them, I decide to move a little bit farther from where they are working and take some clean water to drink.   
I wonder who Strauss will send to collect the debts now. He has to be someone strong and threatening, like Bill, but also smart enough not to kill the debtor. Maybe Charles? Or Javier? I reckon Javier can be really scary when he wants to.   
But, does it matter who he’ll send? I already know what is going to happen, what they’ll do to those poor people. And it’s disgusting.  
Miss Grimshaw calls me back and we reload everything on the wagon to return to camp. There, we stretch a couple of wires and hang the laundry.   
Under the heat of the noon sun, everybody has found shelter beneath the shadows of trees and tents, reading or dozing. It seems I’m one of the few who walks around.   
Passing near Dutch's tent, I spot Morgan and Strauss, but I don’t stop, determined to ignore the money lender as much as I can. My eyes linger on them just the time that I need to see Arthur put some money inside the camp box, while Strauss is saying words I try not to listen to, but some of them reach my ear anyway.  
“...there is one other” the German is saying.  
“This farmer, preacher, feller who I met in Valentine, Mr. Downes.”  
My feet stop and I take cover behind Dutch’s tent. My heart pounding, painting and with my ears trying to catch every single word now.  
Are they talking about debts?  
“If he doesn't have the money, beat him” says Strauss. “Well, I usually do…” replies Morgan.  
Definitely talking about debts.  
Money. Beat him. It's like living the same nightmare all over again.  
My eyes follow Morgan thoroughly as he heads towards the horses and my legs start to move arbitrarily.   
I have to follow him, he’s going to harm Downes, kill him maybe, he must be stopped.  
“Miss!”  
It’s the voice of a woman.  
“Miss, I need to speak with you.”  
I ignore her and increase my speed, I don’t have time to stop, to explain, Morgan is already mounting on his horse. The distance between us seems endless.  
“Miss, are you listening to me?”  
Morgan makes his horse turn around to leave and suddenly my chest becomes heavy. I open my mouth to call him, but at the same time Miss Grimshaw speaks again.  
“I really need to talk to you. Just… stop!”  
I turn around in a blink of an eye. She has almost reached me and my sudden movement makes her take a step backwards.  
"What?" I snap, almost screaming.  
Her face changes: she seems shocked by my reaction but also angry. I don’t care. I look again at the wood from where the back of Morgan’s horse just disappeared.   
“Shit!” I whisper.  
A strong anger is rising from my belly mixed with desperation. I have the instinct to cry out, but I just close my hands into fists and look at Miss Grimshaw again.  
“What do you want?”  
“Listen, don’t you think you can talk to me like this” she scolds me pointing her finger at me.  
I lower my eyes and try to keep calm.  
“I-I'm sorry I… what do you need?”  
“Mr. Pearson needs some things. Go to Valentine, at the store, and buy them” she commands handing me a piece of paper and some money.  
I simply nod, my head already lost. I grab the things she’s handing me and head to the horses.   
He can still be close, he must be close, I can catch him if I hurry.  
I make Isabella run out of the wood as fast as I can, hoping to see Morgan’s back as soon as I reach the road, but I don’t. The place is deserted, no people, no horses, no tracks, nothing.   
A groan of frustration escapes my lips and I spur Isabella, maybe with too much strength because she complains, taking the road to Valentine.   
It's not Miss Grimshaw’s fault, she did nothing wrong, but right now all I want is go back and punch her in that face. I really hope nothing too bad will happen. I really hope Arthur is not that kind of man.

I reach Valentine without being fully conscious. I don’t feel myself. I dismount Isabella and walk inside the general store like somebody else in forcefully pushing me.   
After I give him the list, the owner needs just a couple of minutes to take all that’s written in there. I pay and bring everything to my horse, putting it in my saddle-sacks.   
Despite still feeling a little confused, I’m able to put two thoughts one next to the other and what comes first to my mind is go check the post office.   
All this story with Strauss and Downes reminded me that it’s been a while since I’ve been there.  
“Miss Faraday!” exclaims the employee as soon as he sees me.  
“Good Morning, you've got something for me?”  
“Let me see. Faraday...Far...no, sorry I've got nothing. Where have you been? I haven't seen you in a while” he asks with a polite smile.  
“I've been busy. Goodbye” I cut short and walk outside under his baffled gaze.  
Still nothing. So much time has passed that I’m beginning to wonder if now it’s not too late. Maybe they’re gone, they’ve left the country, or maybe they’re dead. No, if they were dead the news would surely be on some newspaper.   
No letter means I have to double my efforts to find something. I need to start asking questions.  
It is while I walk back to Isabella that I notice it. What until a few days ago was just the empty frame of what would become the front door of the new house they are building, is now engraved with some magnificent dark wood representing vines and animals. There is a bear, a hare, a deer and a horse, all wrapped by the branches of the weeds.   
“If you're interested in the purchase I'm sorry, but the house's already owned. They signed the contract a few days ago. They’re planning to make a restaurant out of it. Some French colon who came here with his strange European ideas.”  
The man is the chief builder. I’ve seen him often giving directions and orders to the other employees. Short dark fella with deep black eyes.   
“Oh, no thanks, I’m not interested. You have and engraver, right?”  
“Yes, Johnson. He’s the best around here.”  
Studying again the little animals something comes up to my mind.   
“Can I ask your man to do something for me?”  
“Sure, what do you need?”  
“A horse. A little one, you know, like a toy… for a boy.”  
He frowns at the beginning, but soon he drops the puzzled look to smile politely.  
“I’ll ask him, but I reckon it won’t be a problem.”  
We agree that I shall come back in a couple of days and we say goodbye.  
If my idea is right, Jack will soon have a sweet surprise.

“Hey, calm down Bella. Calm down” I say patting Isabella’s neck.  
I have just reached the wood that separates the camp from the street when my horse decides to get scared over nothing.   
“It was just a rabbit, you see? There. Little son of a bitch, jumping out from a bush like that. I know, I know, it’s all right.”  
“It’s in their nature, there’s nothing you can do about it.”  
Arthur’s voice makes me look up as my heart starts beating faster.   
He’s back from Downes, I know it, and what’s worst, there are some drops of blood on his face and his shirt.  
What I’m feeling can’t be easily described. It’s pain, it’s rage, it’s a twist of my guts and a cry stopped on my throat before it can come out.   
“You alright?” I ask forcing my voice to remain steady as I point at the blood.  
“Ahh... just a debtor who don't want to give us our goddamn money” he says running a hand through his face.  
“How is he?”   
The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them and Morgan doesn’t miss them, raising his scowling eyes on me.  
“Why do you care?”  
He is tremendously suspicious now, and I have no idea of how get out of it.  
“Never mind” I murmur moving my eyes away.  
He spurs his horse and walks into the wood, but I can sense he’s still staring at me.  
I want to know, I want to know what he’s done to him. Or maybe… maybe I don’t. Maybe ignorance is better in this case. After all, I know what happened, the blood on Arthur’s face is the confirmation of my fears. What else can he say that I’m not already imagining?  
The sun is low on the horizon. I deliver to Pearson the things he asked and then I reach the pot. But looking down at the red slime, I feel sick and decide to avoid eating for today. Instead, I walk to the edge of the camp and sit exactly in the same place I chose the night of Sean’s party, craving some quiet time away from everybody.   
I can’t stand looking at them in their faces, and I’m sure that, if I meet Strauss right now, it wouldn’t end well for him.   
Some time passes and in the meantime I’ve taken my revolver to slowly clean it, when some steps behind me make me roll my eyes.  
There is no peace in this place.  
Turning around to see who’s the disturber, I’m surprised when my eyes meet Sadie’s. She’s surely the last person who I thought would come to talk to me.  
“Hi.”  
“Hi. Can I sit with you?”  
“Sure.”  
“You probably want to be alone, but, uhm… well I wanted to say I’m sorry if I've been a little bit rude with you in these days. It's not been easy for me.”  
“Don't apologize. I understand you. Grief can be difficult.”  
There is a pause when the two of us exchange a meaningful look.  
“You lost someone.”  
It’s a statement not a question.  
“My family” I murmur.  
“I’m sorry.”  
I nod. Now we are on the same level.  
“How?”  
“The same way you lost your husband” I sigh.  
I wait for her to say something else, but she doesn’t and as we stay like this for a while, quietly one next to the other, I feel a bond creating between us. Strange how life can unite people sometimes, not through friendship or confrontation, but through pain and common experience.  
She decides to leave me alone again and go to bed. I wish her goodnight, but she doesn’t take more than a couple of steps before calling me again.  
“Can I ask you something?” she asks.  
“Of course.”  
“How do you leave the pain behind?”  
I sigh as I stare into her hazel eyes that in the absence of light seem black.   
“You don’t” I admit.  
“You live with it.”

This morning there isn't much work to do and Miss Grimshaw keeps me busy just for a couple of hours. Finally free, I go check Isabella, giving her something sweet and petting her. Then, Kieran joins me and we decide to move some hay to make her and the other horses eat.   
He tells me they gave him the chance to take one of the two mares who belonged to no-one in camp. He chose the prettiest calling her Marion, like Lady Marion from the Robin Hood stories. I laugh. Sometimes he seems exactly like a child.   
I sit on a log to watch the animals eat and my eyes fall on Dutch’s horse, The Count. Quite a fancy name, right? But for him I think it’s perfect.  
I get up and cautiously get closer while he's eating. I touch his mantle, white as the moon, and look into his eyes, clear as a pool.  
“He's beautiful, isn't he?”  
I turn around and smile at Dutch.   
“Wonderful.”  
“He's been with me for so many years I forgot the exact number.”  
“You don't seem the kind of man who can forget something.”  
He chuckles and gets even closer.  
“You're smarter than I thought” he states.  
“And when people find out, they start to be careful about what they say in my presence” I reply.  
“Should I be careful, too?”  
The laugh that comes out is a nervous one. I don’t know if he wants to be charming, but his only effect is making me feel uncomfortable.   
“Hey, Dutch!”  
It’s Morgan, coming back from God knows where. The only sight of him makes my guts twist. I wonder who else he’s been beating today to take the money for that shark.   
“Dutch, Micah's free” he says.  
“Well done, son.”  
“And he said something about a 'peace offering' and that he won't come back until he has one” continues Morgan dismounting his horse.  
At Micah’s mention all my senses instinctively awaken. It seems I still have to wait a little before actually meet him.   
At dinner I sit next to Javier who's playing a slow melody on his guitar. Uncle comes to join us too.  
“You won’t run away again, right?” he jokes.  
“No, don’t worry. The other night I wasn’t, uhm, feeling well.”  
“I’m still waiting for that song” says Javier.  
“Really, don’t count on it.”“You should learn how to have more fun” says Uncle.  
“I’ don’t have time for fun.”  
“You have some sort of mission, or something?” laughs Javier.  
“Something, yeah” I laugh back.  
This could be it, the right chance to ask them. They roamed a lot and they surely know more criminal gangs than I do.  
I raise my head and look around, checking that no-one is listening to us.  
“You know sometimes…sometimes I work as bounty hunter. Minor things really and, uhm, the last bounty I tried to collect, he… well he wasn’t easy. He killed my partner and I… I promised I would have found him one day. James Hunt is his name. You know him?”  
The both of them look at each other and then shake their heads at the same moment.   
“He’s quite a tough guy in the place I come from” I keep saying, but they truly seem not to know who I’m talking about.   
“Fred.”  
I turn around on the log and look at Abigail. She’s rubbing her hands together, like she’s worried about something and for a second I stare back at her wondering what happened.  
“I'm sorry to disturb you, but Jack won't sleep. He keeps asking me of some… story you talked about” she says.  
“Oh…” I sigh in relief and give her a smile.  
“I’ll be right over.”“So, you're also a storyteller now?” asks Javier with a grin as Abigail walks away.  
I stand up and theatrically roll my eyes.  
“None of your business anyway” I joke going away.  
Story, he wants a story. What could I possibly tell him?  
Looking around me, I try to find an inspiration when my eyes fall on Mr. Morgan seated under his tent writing something on a journal.  
Yes, that could do.   
“So, mommy told me you don't want to sleep” I say to Jack sitting down under their tent.  
“I'm not tired.”  
“And you want a story?”  
He nods, his eyes fill with a new light.  
“Okay. You ever heard about King Arthur?”

“And he became king?" asks Jack when I finish the story.  
“Yes, and a good one, too” I answer.  
“He has the same name as uncle Arthur's. He is good too. He protects us from the bad guys” he says.  
“Y-yeah…”  
After Downes, I’m not sure about it.   
“Can you tell me another one?”  
“Listen. If you go to sleep right know, tomorrow I'll tell you a very good one.”  
“Promise?”  
“Promise.”


	6. Micah Bell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two things that I most liked to write, the parts with Charles and the parts with Micah. The first because, it goes without saying, are sweet, the second because are incredibly fun to write. 
> 
> I want to thank you all for the support, it means a lot to me.  
> See you in four days! <3 <3

“Mr. Pearson is looking for you. I think he needs something.”  
“Thank you, Miss Grimshaw.”  
I head again to the kitchen, where I’ve been until two minutes ago to take my coffee with Sadie and Abigail.   
If Pearson needed something from me, why didn’t he ask then?  
“Morning Mr. Pearson. They told me you need me?”  
“It's been days since someone’s gone hunting! What am I supposed to put in the stew? EH!? FLIES!?”  
I bring two fingers to plug my ears making him understand there is no need for him to howler like that.  
“Okay, relax, I'm going immediately” I say turning around and getting away from him and his fury.  
Hunting, hunting hunting. I still haven’t the skill to go on my own. And the tools either. I need Charles, hoping he isn’t busy.  
I move my eyes across camp looking for my patient teacher. He’s seated under his tent with a bow in his hands.   
“Charles, I'm sorry to disturb you.”  
He rises his eyes on me.  
“Mr. Pearson needs meet for the stew. Would you come with me, so you can help me with the bow?”  
“Sure. Here, take this. I've finished it” he replies standing up and handing me the bow.   
“Oh, thank you. I almost forgot.”  
With it he also hands me a couple of arrows and then, together, we head to the horses.  
This is my first hunt ever and I must admit I can’t wait to begin. I’ve always been a fast learner, always doing things on my own. Before leaving my parents ranch, I knew nothing about camping under the stars, set traps for the rabbits, skin them, or use a revolver.   
I follow Charles until we reach a place not too far from Horseshoe Overlook, quiet enough to practice with my new bow without being interrupted.  
“Okay, we should be able to find some deers here. Remember: pull the wire with all the strength you have.”  
“Yessir.”  
“There. You see the tracks? Follow them.”  
Follow them. He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, but more than once I lose the trail and he has to help me find it again.  
I have my eyes fixed on the ground, focused on what could be a print as much as it could be nothing at all, when Charles lays one of his hands on my shoulder and with the other he points ahead of us. There, among the trees, there is a deer.  
Charles makes me sign to get on my knees, I take one of the arrows, nock it and wait.  
“Go on” he encourages me.  
I pull the wire and aim, but still I don’t let go, waiting for him to instruct me. Soon, I feel his presence behind me and his hands on my elbows.

“A little bit higher. Pull a little more. Okay, good. Let me see your aim.”  
His voice is warm and calm and has a soothing power on my mind.  
“Remember, always on the left of your target. Let go when you're ready.”  
I let it go and before I know it, the arrow has hit the head of the deer.  
“Ah!” I exclaim and turn around to smile at him.  
“Good. You see, it’s not that hard. Let's look for another one” he says.  
“Another?”  
“This way Pearson will be good for a few days.”  
He loads the animal on Taima and we keep on, following another trail that leads us to a couple of does and a young stag.   
“Okay, choose one and do as I told you” says Charles.  
“Y-you don’t want to help me?”  
“Not this time.”  
His words make me feel immediately nervous. I don’t feel ready yet, what if I do it completely wrong?  
“Okay” I sigh nocking the arrow and taking the aim.   
This time it definitely takes me more time to shoot. I want to make sure to be in the right position and that my kill will be clean. The problem is, I take too much time and a noise scares the deers.   
I just have the time to realize they’re about to flee and I let the arrow go.   
“No!” I hear myself exclaim.  
I jerk up and run towards the whining sensing Charles’s presence always after me.  
The doe I was targeting is on the ground covered in blood and fidgeting desperately. My stomach twists in regret and I kneel next to her pulling out my knife.  
“Where?” I ask.  
Charles doesn’t answer me, he just takes my hand holding the knife and slowly places it where the heart of the poor animal should be. Then, together, we push.  
“I'm sorry” I murmur.  
“You're okay?”  
“Yes, I just… wish I did it differently.”  
I take my knife back, cleaning it on my knee, and then I try to lift the deer.   
“No, no, I’ll do it. It's too heavy for you” he offers.  
I look at him as he takes it without breaking a sweat and wonder how many years of this life he’s needed to become this strong.  
“Keep practicing and you'll become a good hunter” he says as we head back to the horses.  
“Thank you, Charles, for everything.”  
“Don’t mention it.”

The afternoon is hot and sunny and I decide to spend it under the shadow of one of the trees that limit the camp. I lay down, with my back against the bark, polishing my gun, looking for stains and imperfections, when from the wood I hear some horses.   
I turn around to see the two men appearing from among the branches and leave the horses at the stake. One is Morgan, the other someone I’ve never seen before, with a white hat and a blonde walrus mustache.  
This gang seems endless, every day I find out there is a new member that I’ve never met before. Not so endless as the O’Driscolls, though. Those bastards are truly everywhere.  
“Well, hello fine folks. Look who's back! Aren’t you happy to see me?” says the man catching the attention of the camp people.   
Curious, I get up and draw near.  
Soon, I understand that the man with the blond mustache is the famous Micah. As I hear him talking and joking, I understand why Arthur doesn’t like him. He surely is an unpleasant type.  
“Look at that… and, who are you?” He asks when he finally sees me.   
“Miss Faraday” I answer coldly.  
“I am Micah, Bell.”  
I stare at him trying to understand if I’ve ever seen his face somewhere, but I can’t remember him. His name though, keeps ringing a bell.   
A grin appears on his face.  
“May I?” he adds taking my hand in his and bringing it to his lips.   
I immediately withdraw it, making him laugh for some strange reason only he can understand.  
“There's no need to be surly. On the contrary, we should be friends” he teases me walking closer.  
I don’t give him the chance to approach me. Taking a step back I turn around and leave him there.  
“Acquaintances will be just fine” I add with a gesture of my hand.  
I don't like him. I don't like his talking, his look… It’s the same feeling I had once when I opened the pantry of the kitchen and found a rat inside, chewing our groceries.  
Besides, he is so different from the rest of them. Arthur, Javier, Charles, John, even Bill, I’m sure they’ve done terrible things in their lives, but they don’t seem the kind to enjoy it. Micah, he gives me a completely different feeling.  
I wonder why he’s still here.   
For dinner, I take the same place near Uncle and Javier. This time with us there are also Bill, Lenny and Arthur.  
We exchange a few words while we eat, talking about their recent jobs, what they have been up to, when Micah comes to sit with us and, just like he’s doing it on purpose, he takes the free seat next to me.   
“I don't understand why you're here” he says with his everlasting mocking tone.  
“Because I work for Dutch.”  
“No, I mean here, on this log, around this fire, with the men. The place for women is down there” he adds pointing at the girls seated around the table to eat together.  
“I’m fine here.”  
I won’t get angry. I don’t want to give him any satisfaction. But I won’t stay quiet either.   
“But the isn’t your place.”  
“I don't think it's your job to tell me what my place is, Mr. Bell.”  
“Oh, it is my job, actually. I'm a man and it's my duty to keep women in line.”  
I scoff and shake my head, determined not to fall into his trap, but unlike me someone else does.  
“Leave her alone, Micah” Lenny steps in.  
“You better shut up, darky.”  
“Micah, why don't you go someplace else?” says Morgan annoyed.  
“Because I'm in the right place while someone else is not.”  
This time I ignore him completely. I don’t want to ruin the dinner for the others.   
“You better don't make me angry, girl” he keeps saying, unwilling to give up.  
“We live in a free country, Mr. Bell.”  
I feel a hand running on my shoulder and quickly push it away jerking up with a swift movement.   
“You can say whatever you want but don’t you dare to touch me, fucking asshole” I growl at his face.  
He starts laughing. A hateful laugh.   
This is enough. Today is not my lucky day. Better go away than start a fight.  
I’m really just about to leave, when Abigail shows up.  
“I'm sorry, but he asked for you” she says pointing at Jack behind her.  
“And he’s right, I promised” I reply and then follow her back to her tent taking big breaths in the meantime, calming myself down.  
“Okay, Jack” I say sitting down on the blanket next to him.  
“Have you ever heard the story of Robin Hood?”


	7. Train Heist

I open my eyes but close them back right after. The beam of light the comes from the open curtains blinds me and forces me to roll on my other side.   
The hell… that’s odd, I remember I closed them last night. How did they open themselves? Maybe… maybe they haven’t, maybe someone came inside while I was asleep.  
I jerk upright making myself dizzy, and the same bloody ray of sun hits my eyes again.   
“Fuck” I murmur bringing a hand on my face and rubbing it.  
That must be it, someone came inside, but who? And why? Some thieves who found the camp and believed they could make some money?   
I take a look at my things and notice that everything is exactly where I left it.  
No, no thieves. And then, it’s impossible, there’s always someone on the watch, also during the night.   
With no clue, I get up and walk outside. If something happened the camp would be in turmoil.   
Walking towards the kitchen, I don’t see anything strange and I start to think that maybe I really forgot them open. But it can’t be, I do remember I closed them.   
“Morning” says Sadie as I draw close and take a cup of coffee.  
“Morning to you. All calm?”  
“Yep.”  
“Even tonight?”  
She frowns.  
“Sure. Why shouldn’t it?”  
“Uhm, nothing, never mind.”  
Walking around the camp, I keep looking at the people faces, hoping to catch a worried expression, a strange frowning, a lost look, but nothing.   
Maybe it wasn’t someone outside camp, but on the inside. But… if someone broke into my tent, he or she would have a strange behavior, like he or she is hiding something, and here, everyone seems fine.  
“Good morning sweetie. You slept well?”  
At the beginning I don’t pay attention to him, but then, like an epiphany, I stop and turn around to look at his smirking face.   
“Micah…”  
“What?” he asks and from his bewildered face I immediately understand he has nothing to do with it. No, definitely not him. He wound have a satisfied expression.  
I shake my head and go away.  
“Yeah well… that's because I try to be kind” he shouts at my back and I answer him with a gesture which is better not to describe here.  
I just take a few steps more, when John comes to talk to me. That’s strange too. From what I’ve seen in these days, he’s always on his own, constantly antagonized by his wife and by Arthur too. I expected anything but seeing him walk towards me to talk.  
“I just…err, wanted to thank you for what you've done for Jack. Since you’ve been with him, he’s different. You know… I care about my family. At least, I’m trying. How can I return the favor?”  
“Oh, don’t mention it. He’s a wonderful kid.”  
“Yes, yes, he is. But, serious, if there's something, just ask.”  
Something he can do for me? Where does all this kindness come from? I mean, we barely exchanged two words and now… now he wants me to ask him for a favor? And then, he speaks of Jack like he actually cares about him, when Abigail always complains he doesn’t do shit for his son. What’s going on here?  
“Maybe there is something you can do” I say.  
“Tell me.”  
What can he do for me? There’s only one thing I need: as much work outside camp as possible.  
“If you have a lead, some job, I want to be part of it.”  
“I want to make you a favor and you ask me to work?” he asks perplexed.  
“I have to keep busy somehow, right?” I shrug.  
He scoffs and lowers his gaze, maybe thinking that I’m an idiot or maybe realizing that whatever he was planning isn’t going how he has hoped.  
“Actually, I got something” he says, lowering his voice to a murmur.  
I nod in encouragement.  
“There is a train. Mary Beth told me about it and I have a plan. I just need Arthur to do something for me.”  
“Great, tell me when and I'll be ready.”  
This little delay hasn’t pushed the search for the intruder out of my mind. I sit at one of the tables and analyze all the camp people, looking for a strange behavior and a reason. Yes, a reason. It’s a reason that I need most of all.   
Hosea, Dutch, Arthur, Miss Grimshaw, Pearson, why would they do that? John doesn't seem guilty, just acting a little strangely maybe. And then there's Micah, who I'm sure would have reacted differently.  
Abigail, Tilly, Karen and Mary Beth, again, why? Kieran, Charles, Javier, or Lenny? They don't look like the kind of people who would do something like this.  
Maybe someone who was drunk? And accidentally walked inside? Well not so drunk and not so accidentally if they managed to loose the strings of the curtains. Anyway, my choice is between Uncle, Sean, Bill and Swanson.  
Miss Grimshaw calls me back to reality, shouting at the top of her voice from the distance to lift my ass and do some work.

In the afternoon I assist to one of the sweetest scenes I've ever seen until now. Arthur takes Jack fishing. The boy is so tiny that Morgan lifts him with one hand to get him on the horse.   
Abigail waves goodbye to the both of them as they disappear inside the wood. She looks worried.  
“It’s going to be alright, they’ll have fun” I say reaching her.  
“I hope so.”  
Then, she turns to look at me.  
“This will make him good. Thanks to you he’s already recovering from Blackwater. It hasn’t been easy for him either.”  
“Uhm, you remind me of John, he just told me the same thing.”  
“Oh he told you? I can’t believe that for once he listened to me.”  
I frown. So he said all those things just because Abigail told him to. Now it makes sense.   
“There was no need for him to thank me, I’ve done nothing special.”  
“Yes, you have. You’re doing for Jack something no-one has done before.”  
Abigail, she can be so sweet sometimes. I don’t know why, but I feel like I can trust her. Maybe one of the few who can be trusted in this place.  
“Can I ask you something?” I say taking on a serious expression.  
I explain her what happened this morning, about the possible intrusion in my tent and about my suspicion.  
“Have you thought about Micah?” she asks in the end.  
“Yes, as I told you, he would have swaggered about it.”  
“Yeah, he surely is the type, but he could fake.”  
“Uhm… I don’t know. It never happened that someone drunk went inside the wrong tent?”  
“Yeah but… they are really loud. You would have noticed. No. Who entered your tent was aware of it and did it quietly so not to wake you.”With these words, she has just confirmed my worst fear: whoever walked inside, did it on purpose.  
I leave Abigail and go think a little more about all this story sitting around one of the campfires. Next to me there's only the reverend, seated on the ground with his head on the log and his eyes half open.  
I glance at him before I take out my gun to clean it. I rub the silver barrel, the decorated cylinder and the white stock. In the end I take some bullets and recharge it.

After the sunset, I’m eating some of Pearson's stew when John and Charles show up.  
“It’s time” says the former.  
At first I just look at him, incapable to understand what he’s talking about, but then I remember about the job.   
“Already?” I ask surprised.  
After his nod, without further questions, I follow them towards the horses.   
“We're just three? For a train?” I ask in disbelief.   
“Arthur's waiting for us. You've got a rifle?” says John.  
“No, just my revolver.”  
“You need a rifle.”  
"I prefer my revolver.”  
“Here, take this. I've got a spare one” he says handing me a rifle he takes from his saddle.  
“Really, I don’t…"  
“Take it. You'll need it. We don't know how many men there will be” he insists.  
It seems I have to accept his offer. Why is he acting all nice with me today? That’s the real question here.  
We mount up and ride for half an hour. Every now and then John tries to start a discussion, but neither Charles nor I seem to be in the mood for talking. Soon, he gives up.   
He said the job is about a train, so I expect a robbery. Steal to honest people: that’s not exactly fair, and I know I’m not gonna like it. And it will be me, John, Charles and Morgan. I have to work with Morgan. Again not something I want to do right now, but I don’t get to choose. I asked John to go with them after all, so I have to comply.  
We reach a wood and and slow up. In the complete darkness a cabin in visible among the trees with a couple of lit lanterns.   
John and Charles dismount the horses and I follow their example. I’m pretty sure we’ll find Arthur by the house.  
“Yeah, my youthful vigor, it intimidates ya.”  
No, these words surely aren’t uttered by Arthur. The voice is too young, the accent too Irish.  
“Does it?”  
This is Morgan. And he sounds annoyed too.  
“It's a story as old as the hills. The changing of the guard, the fading of the light. You're toast, old man” says Sean.  
“Okay... and what are you?” asks Morgan sceptic.  
“I'm the future, in all its glory.”  
“If you're the future, Sean, then we're all screwed” I say coming out from the wood and surprising him from behind. John right after me laughs.  
“What do you know? You don't even know me” replies Sean turning around.  
“I've already understood what kind of person you are.”  
“What are you doing here, by the way? This is men’s work” he keeps teasing.  
“You’re out of place then.”  
I enjoy his face changing and from blowhard he becomes a beaten puppy. He tries to reply something, but John stops him.  
“What are you doing here, kid?”  
“I'm coming, John, on the job.”  
"I said you weren't coming.”  
“Yeah, well Arthur says I am, and it's his party, boy, so come on, let's go.”  
While he blabbers I notice he’s standing next to a tank wagon, one of those they use to move oil and on the side it's written: 'Cornwall Kerosene & Tar’.  
I wonder what’s the plan.   
“Me and the big cheeses, love it. Can't wait to slit some bastard's throat.”  
“You sure about this?” John whispers to Arthur.  
“No... Are we ready?” he asks to Charles and me.   
I nod.  
“Alright then, let's go.”  
He gets at the leading place, near Sean, John and Charles climb on the sides and I choose to climb up and sit right on the top of the tank. It’s slippery and potentially dangerous, but we’re about to rob a train, nothing is more dangerous than that.  
“Gentleman, lady. Let's go earn some money” says Morgan and we start to move with a whip of the reins.  
“Hey, are our horses untethered?” asks Charles.  
“Think so” replies John.  
“Good, they should follow on behind us.”  
At his words I turn round and whistle making the five horses come out of the wood where we left them.   
“You find a good spot, Wolf Man?” asks Morgan.  
Wolf man. Never heard this name, who is he talking to?  
“Yeah, follow the trail South-West, there's a spot that’s... remote, but should still give 'em enough time to spot the oil wagon” explains John.  
Okay, so, he’s the ‘wolf man’. Because of the attack that left the scars on his face? Really original Morgan.  
So, we place the wagon on the trail and wait for the train to stop. Good plan. It isn’t easy to convince a driver to stop a train, but if we threaten his life with the tank wagon, he will do it.   
No time passes when Sean starts talking again, and boy, he really doesn’t want to stop. He complains about why they never take him in consideration for the heists. I think the answer to this is pretty clear: he’s an idiot, and useless too.  
When John steps in to reason with him, Sean mocks him for the scars, telling him to pay attention before another squirrel jumps on his face.  
Despite this last joke is funny, I hate the fact that both him and Morgan make fun of John. Wolves are dangerous and I don’t reckon any of them would be in better shape after they experienced what John went through.  
Anyway, Sean keeps on with his blah blah blah, until Charles, who’s been quiet for all the way, finally decides to talk.  
“Why do you have to speak so much? It’s... incessant” he says annoyed.  
“Cause I've still got some blood in me veins! You old bastards have forgotten how to live” replies Sean.  
“I blame you three for rescuing him” jokes John.  
“I'm sorry, if I knew, I'd have never done that” I joke back.  
“Yeah, very funny woman. But you have no right to talk to me like this. How my da always used to say…”  
"Not the da, please!” the three men complain in chorus and the thing makes me laugh.  
“Fine! Damn, you four...Sulky, Angry, Scar Face. And you. I don't know your true age, but you hide your years very good under that girl face, you witch.”  
At Sean’s words I let out another laugh.   
Okay, I must admit he can be funny sometimes, but this doesn’t mean he isn’t the most annoying boy I’ve ever met.  
At my giggle, Charles turns around to smile at me. I smile back and immediately move my eyes away.   
Why has he done that?  
“So we block the tracks with the wagon then jump 'em? That's the plan?” asks Sean.  
“Pretty much. Charles, you deal with the engineer. John, secure the passenger car fast, take their 'charitable donations' and make sure everyone behaves. Mr Macguire, you take care of the luggage car, collect everything valuable. Miss, you keep watch. Be careful that no-one shows up and no-one tries to run from the train” orders Morgan.  
The watch? To that Irish idiot he gives the luggages and I have to keep watch?   
I open my mouth to protest, but then I stop my instinct immediately. Maybe it's better not to complain now. I'll see if I can do what I want once we are at work.  
“Here's good. Stop the wagon on the tracks” says John.  
As they get down, Charles and Arthur untie the two horses that pull the wagon. I jump down and take the rifle John gave me before commanding Isabella to go away with the rest of the horses. The farther form the fight they get, the better.  
“Mr. Marston, Mr. Smith, Mr. Macguire and Miss Faraday, get over there” orders Morgan pointing at the wood that runs along the train trail.  
“When she slows, board her” he ends.  
I look at Charles and John walk away without questions, but Sean and I don’t move. I fix my eyes on Arthur’s face wondering what he intends to do while we hide.  
“And you?” asks Sean before I can.  
“I'm gonna make sure she slows.”  
My lips open of an inch and my eyes widen. If I got it right, what he’s going to do is extremely dangerous.  
As Sean and I get to the others, Morgan climbs on the top of the tank and takes his rifle.  
I shouldn’t be worried about him, especially not after Downes, but I am. Why am I worried about a criminal’s life?  
“Let’s cover our faces, no-one has to recognize us” says Charles.  
I take my bandana and put it over my face with the distant sound of the train already approaching.   
An unusual silence falls between us. Even Sean is quiet.   
I grasp the rifle and take a couple of deep breaths. I'm not exactly nervous, or maybe I am. Most of all I fear someone could loose his life tonight. This is surely something I want to avoid.  
The white light of the train headlamp is already visible through the trees, the rails are shacking, the smell of coal is filling the air, and a sudden loud whistle tells me the driver spotted Arthur and the wagon just in time and that he is slowing the locomotive up.  
Charles moves quickly, before she stops completely. He walks in front of me and heads to the engine. At the same moment the driver comes out.  
“What's going on here? What's going on?” he yells.  
He has no time to do or say anything else because Charles hits him on the head and he falls on the ground. With the others, we move, while Arthur gets down the tank.  
With John they head to the passenger cars, Sean heads to the end of the train and Charles walks inside the first car to disable the engine.  
As they all disappear from my sight, I turn my head left and right, checking the surroundings. There is nothing but the sound of night birds and crickets and the light of the train lamps.   
Okay, time to take action.   
I start walking fast towards the end of the train, passing through the passengers cars where I hear John shouting: “Gentlemen, keep calm, please!”   
The watch, really I can’t believe it. It seems that even after Blackwater Morgan still believes I’m useless. I’ll show him what I can do. I’ll show them all.  
I walk and walk until I reach Sean. He’s leaning his back against the last car and… he’s smoking a cigarette.  
“You ain't done anything, yet?” I exclaim pulling my bandana down.  
“Hey, you should be keeping watch” he says.  
“I should, but from what I can see you're not able to do a job alone!”  
“You better watch your mouth, girl.”  
He stands from the car side and walks in my direction with an attitude that should be intimidating, but that has the only effect to make him look more idiotic than usual.  
“You don't scare me, Sean, so don't even try. Now, if you don't mind, open that fucking door!” I say pointing at the luggage car.  
He sighs and finally does what I asked. I follow him on the flat car and while he works I give another look around keeping ears and eyes very open, but there's not a single soul and the only noise is John shouting to the passengers in the distance.  
“Okay, done” says the Irish.  
I just have the time to turn in his direction when a man comes out from the luggage car and hits him on the head with the stock of his rifle. Sean falls on the ground and I rise John’s rifle and shoot without even taking the aim. Luckily, I hit him right on the chest. When he falls another one shows up and he suffers the same fate.  
A shot from behind me makes my heart jump on my throat and I throw myself on the ground before turning around ready to fire back, but soon I realize it’s just Arthur.   
The man he just shot falls from the car roof and lands in front of us with a thud.  
“T-thank you, Arthur. You okay Sean?” I ask standing up again.  
“O-of course” he answers but he’s having some difficulties standing up.  
Morgan taps my shoulder and then makes me sign to follow him.  
“Come with me, let's get a look inside. Sean this time you provide cover” he commands.  
“I'll try my best brother, but… I'm seeing double here.”  
"Come on, Sean, be a man” I joke walking past him.  
Entering the car, I hear a murmured 'fuck you' as an answer and I can’t help but smile at the provocation.  
I leave my rifle near the door so to have both my hands free and I start to open chests and baggages. I take some money and different valuables and put them inside the sack Morgan is filling.  
“Arthur, we got a problem. There's two arseholes on horses” says Sean from the outside.  
“How many you say?”  
“ Uhh, I just see a pair of them.”  
“Alright, in that case, we're fighting” says Arthur closing the sack and walking outside.   
I take John’s rifle before following him.  
“You men come off the train now, do you hear?”  
“There's only two of you, you fools. We got a whole lot less to lose. Why don't the two of you ride away? That way neither of you get killed” shouts Arthur in their direction.  
“There's a few more of them turning up” Sean warns him.  
“Me and my big mouth. Okay… let's deal with them.”  
As they open fire, I take cover and cock the rifle, but I don’t shoot.  
Are they lawmen? They must be. But how can they be here? Who called them? It was all really quiet until two minutes ago.   
“They coming from west too. Cover the other side” I hear John shouting, but still, I don’t fire a single bullet.  
It is true that I’ve done bad things in the last year, but killing lawmen, that’s a step I still haven’t taken, that’s the next level I don’t want to reach.  
“Are you going to shoot something, girl?” Sean rebukes me.  
“Mind your business Sean!”  
I have no other choice. I have to do something. I stick out and aim at one of the men at horseback. I target his head, then move a little lower and shoot his shoulder making him fall from his horse.   
I have to fight back, but it doesn’t mean I have to kill them.  
I hit one of two, being careful only to injure them. The third one I miss and hit the side of his horse that rears and throws him from the saddle. Before he’s able to stand up someone hits him in his head.  
The silence that falls when the fight ends, makes my ears ring.   
“You aren’t exactly a good shooter, are you?” jokes Sean pointing at the rifle in my hands.  
“If you want to test me take a couple of steps back and I’ll show how good I am” I say standing up.  
“We better get out of here before someone else shows up” John warns us.  
“Well, our challenge will have to wait” says Sean with a smirk.  
“You’ve been lucky” I smile back.  
“Come on, we need to cover our tracks” says Morgan when we reach the horses.   
We ride fast through a very open plain before entering a forest which gives us the cover we need.  
“Whoa! That was fun boys, real fun” laughs Sean.  
“I can see why they call you the professionals of the outfit. All but you, of course. You have nothing to to with them” he adds pointing at me.  
“I’m not the one who spent most of the time lying down trying to recover from a head bump” I retort.   
“Hey, shut up you two” Morgan scolds us and he throws some of the money they took on the train to Sean who catches them with a swift movement.  
“At least we made some money. And what did I get? Gotta be a hundred dollars here, very nice” Sean keeps saying.  
“And you weren't even invited” jokes Arthur.  
“What now?” asks John when he receives his part.  
“We still need a real big take, enough for us to get out of here” replies Morgan.  
“Was that a set up? Law turned up real fast.”  
“I don't know. I don't think so. I'm starting to get nervous.”  
“Think they followed us from Blackwater?” asks Charles.  
“Maybe. They found me already near Horseshoe, but…”  
“If I was able to find you, just imagine the government, with all their men and spies” I step in.  
“Anyway I think this lot was just locals” ends Morgan.  
“I hope so. I'm gonna head into Valentine, I already got something started there” adds John.  
“Good idea. Either way, we should all go alone right now. You know the deal, don't be followed.”  
They all choose a different direction and scatter. I follow their example, but I truly have no idea of where I am. My idea is to camp somewhere around here and in the morning look for indications to go back to Valentine, when I hear Morgan call my name.  
“Not you, you come with me.”  
“Why?”   
“It's better this way. It's dangerous around here for a girl alone at night.”  
“I've been alone for a year.”  
“But now you're not. Come, let's camp right outside this forest.”  
I don't follow him immediately. Is he acting like this because he really cares about me, or it’s just a way to pretend to care about me, or worst he doesn’t trust me?  
I really don’t know what to think, but I follow him anyway. I prefer it this way rather than wander in the darkness.   
We stop in a place covered on the left by the wood and on the right by the hill.  
“Gather some wood and light a fire” he commands dismounting his horse.  
“You don’t think they'll see the fire if they're looking for us?”  
“We're already far away from that train. And the alternative is worst: there are wolves around here.”  
After some time, we sit around the little fire. Morgan hitched his horse to a tree, I took the saddle from Isabella and put it on the ground so to use it to lean my head on it. Then, I left Isabella free to eat the grass.  
“This way she'll run away, especially if a wolf comes close and scares her” Morgan warns me.  
“Oh, you don't know my Isabella” I say with a smile.  
Hearing her name, she walks closer bumping her head against my shoulder.  
“What? You know you've been a good girl today, don’t you?” I murmur reaching my saddle-sack and pulling out a sugar cube.  
“You got her for a long time?”  
“She was one of the horses at my family’s ranch. I've seen her birth and I raised her.”  
As Isabella goes away, I lean my back on the saddle and look at the sky, breathing the fresh night air.  
“What happened to the ranch?”  
There it is, the infamous question.   
“It's still there. Abandoned or… maybe they sold it, I don't know.”  
“You don't want to go back? It was your home.”  
“After what happened? No, I don't want to set a foot in there” I reply coldly.   
“What happened?”  
A few images appear in my mind. The ground drenched with blood, the house on fire, the dead carcasses of the animals covered with flies.   
A fist clutches around my stomach and my breath becomes uneven.   
When Arthur understands that I have no intention to answer him, he changes topic.  
“How's going in camp?”  
“Good.”  
“I know that not everybody likes you.”  
Is this a provocation? He wants some kind of reaction from me?  
“It doesn’t matter.”I know exactly who doesn’t like me in camp, but as far as they limit themselves to words and complains on my account, they can do what they want. If they start with stupid tricks or…  
Something suddenly comes up to my mind. After what happened in the last couple of hours, I completely forgot.  
“You know, something happened last night…”   
I sit up again and turn to look at him. I don’t know why I’m telling him this, but maybe he knows something I don’t.   
I tell him about the intrusion, my ideas about it and what Abigail told me. When I finish, he's frowning.  
“You sure you haven’t forgot it open?”  
“I've never forgot it open.”  
“And all your things are still there?”  
“Yep.”  
“Uhm…”  
I expect something more form him, but he just stays there studying the flames as a complete silence falls between us, so I take out my gun and start the cleaning ritual. Soon, I feel his eyes upon me, but I try to ignore it. When I finish I put my gun away, wish him goodnight and turn my back to the fire.


	8. Leviticus Cornwall

“Van der Linde!”  
Dutch and Arthur raise their heads and exchange a look.   
“Get out here!”  
It's a man, shouting at the top of his voice from the street.  
“Van der Linde! Get out now!”  
He’s angry, furious I’d say.  
Dutch and Arthur, squinting their eyes, stand up to peek from the window of the saloon.  
“Van der Linde! You don't know me and you keep robbing me.”  
I do the same and approach the other front window. The man who's shouting is at horseback, white hair, well dressed. He looks like a business man.  
“My name is Leviticus Cornwall and I am not the man to be messed with by the likes of you!”

The same day, a few hours before.

Coffee. I smell coffee, and firewood, and grass and opening my eyes, I blink a couple of times in the twilight. The sun is still low on the horizon. It must be very early.   
“Morning.”  
I sit up rubbing my eyes and smile at Arthur. It looks like he’s already awake from a long time.   
“Have you slept at all?” I joke.  
“Course I have. Coffee?”  
“Yep, thanks.”  
“I'm going to Valentine to see what John’s up to.”  
“Oh, I’m coming too.”  
He hands me a cup of coffee with a questioning look.  
“I need to check something” I add.  
“Uh, okay.”

We get to Valentine about one hour later. We split up at the entrance and I immediately head to the post office.   
Just like a couple of days ago, I find nothing there. Not that I expected differently. While I’m here, I think I’ll check if Jack’s toy is ready.  
“Good morning, you've got something for me?” I ask to the chief builder.  
“Welcome back! Yes, I have. Just wait here for a second” he replies walking inside the house… or restaurant, whatever they’re going to do with this place.  
He comes out after a little with the little wooden horse in his hands.  
“Thank you, it’s great. The boy will be really pleased. And thank your man for me and give these to him, for the bother” I add putting a few dollars in his hands.   
I mount on Isabella and decide to take a quick look around town tying to remember if I have something else to do.  
Who knows how many months I have to wait before I’ll receive that letter. If I’ll ever receive it. I definitely have to start to ask questions to the gang members. Uncle and Javier knew nothing the other day, but maybe the others are more informed.  
I pass the gunsmith, the doctor, the Sheriff…  
Jeez, I had almost forgot how this place always smells like. Every time I put a foot in this place…  
I pull Isabella’s reins to make her stop. I have just reached the second saloon of the town and tied right in front of it there is… The Count. Dutch's horse.  
What the hell is he doing here? It seems so odd that he leaves camp to come in such a sleazy place.   
“Hey! You want to move or what?”  
I turn around to give dirty look at the man on the wagon.   
“Move, woman! I don’t have all day!”  
I shake my head and slowly, really really slowly, I make Isabella move until I reach the saloon and dismount.  
The man on the wagon murmurs something when he drives past me, something that I pretend not to have listened to, and suppressing the instinct to blow his brains up I reach the door.  
There he is, seated at one of the few tables and talking with none the less than… Leopold Strauss.  
No, for nothing on earth I’m walking inside this saloon, for nothing on earth I’m sitting at the same table with that man.   
I do as to turn around and go away, but Dutch’s eyes move from the hateful face of the loan shark to me.   
“Oh! Look who's there! Please Miss, come and have a few words with us.”  
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.  
Cursing myself and my bad luck I walk inside.  
“Guten Morgen” says the German with his disgusting crooked smile.  
“Herr Strauss” I say coldly looking at the planks of the floor.   
Then, I raise my eyes and meet Dutch’s suspicious gaze. Something tells me he noticed my loath towards Strauss.  
“Why don't you sit? You want something to drink?” he asks.  
“No, thank you. It’s too early for me.”  
“Well, at least enjoy our company.”  
Yes, what a great company.  
“What are you doing here?” he inquires as I take the seat opposite to Strauss.  
“I had some business to take care of.”  
“Good. You see, Leopold, the girl is working hard. She's not like you, you little rat. You hang around at camp all day and steal to poor people.”  
“I thought this was our job, Dutch. Aren't we criminals? Steal, kill, that's what we do. At least, I do something legal and honest.”  
“Honest?” exclaims Dutch with a bitter laugh.  
“Mr. Strauss, we kill and steal but not poor people who struggle to live a decent life. This is honest. What you do is exploit their desperation.”  
“I don't see it like that. Everyone who takes money from me and not from the bank has something to hide. Not everyone who looks honest, really is.”“Evil lies in the eyes of the beholder, never heard about this saying, Leopold?”  
“And the world isn't just black or white. I don't believe in absolutes, just shades of grey. Compromises.”  
“Compromises? Please Miss, would you talk some sense into this man?”  
For all this time, I just listened to the two of them, moving my eyes from one to the other, so when Dutch addresses me, I am taken aback.   
What could I possibly say that doesn’t sound like an insult? Do I want to say anything but insults to Strauss?   
Besides, the last thing I want to do right now is open a discussion with the second man I hate most in the world.  
I clear my throat and blink a couple of times.  
“I don't like what you do, Herr Strauss. I really don't. Just think about it makes me sick. You take advantage from other people's desperation, just how Dutch was saying. Only rats and vultures do that. But I have to agree with you, the world isn't just black or white and who seems a good man, not always is. But we're not talking about goodness, and I'm sure it's not your job to tell who is or isn't good. We're talking about humanness and what you do, from my point of view, isn't human.”  
As I finish, I look up noticing their surprised expressions. For a couple of seconds none of them seems able to say anything.   
It’s the sound of the door that distracts us all. Arthur and John enter the room and draw closer. I never thought I’d say that, but they’ve been my salvation.   
“Gentlemen” Strauss greets them in a way that makes me understand he’s just trying to escape from the embarrassing silence I’ve created among us.  
“Dutch, Leopold” says Morgan before giving me a puzzled look.  
“What are you doing here?” he asks.  
Waiting for an excuse to leave.  
“Passing by” I reply.  
“Where have you been?” inquires Dutch.  
“Working... Marston's thing.”  
“Good... and?”  
“We're waiting to get some pay on... a few sheep.”  
Maybe for the way he said that or maybe for the idea that the two men started selling sheep, the thing makes me laugh. A giggle, nothing more, but they notice it and I have to raise a hand to apologize.   
“Leopold, my good friend, as long as you're here, why don't you and John go make sure there ain't no funny business” says Dutch, the only one who ignored me.  
“Drink?” he proposes to Arthur as soon as the two men walk outside.  
“Sure.”  
“I have to tell you: what you said before was…” Dutch adds looking in my direction.  
“Just the truth” I cut short.  
“Nothing like talking to old Strauss to make you want to blow your own brains out. I should have left him where I found him all those years ago. Bookish little Austrian fresh off the boat, his eyes out on stalks…”  
So, he's Austrian. Not German. Well, it changes nothing.  
“Well, I guess the Dutch van der Linde finishing school has some… strange graduates” says Arthur.  
“That it does. To your good health” adds Dutch raising his glass.  
The two of them drink it straight when…  
“Van der Linde!”

Leviticus Cornwall.  
An image flashes in my mind: the oil wagon we used to stop the train last night. So, this is the famous businessman who owns the company. But some questions remain the same: how did he find us? How does he know us? How does he know it was one of Dutch’s man who stole the wagon?  
Just like the situation isn’t bad enough, two of Cornwall’s men bring John and Strauss, taken as hostages.  
Dutch and Arthur start thinking about a plan, but I don’t listen to them. I walk to the backdoor of the saloon and get outside, taking out my revolver and expecting to find some men guarding the back of the building, but there is no-one out here.   
Idiots.  
Needless to say that sneak around Cornwall and his boys is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. All focused as they are on the saloon, they don’t see me crossing the road and stick out from behind a wall to count them.   
Seven, and from where I am, I can perfectly take out the one who’s keeping John as hostage.   
“Deal with this nonsense” Mr. Cornwall commands to his men before spurring his horse and go away.  
Yeah, right, when it comes to action he flees, leaving his men to die. Coward.  
Arthur and Dutch come out. Dutch starts talking, I think he’s taking time, while Arthur moves his eyes around until he sees me.  
Ready, I make a gesture to him, telling him that I want to take care of the man who has Marston. With an imperceptible nod he pulls out his gun.   
I don’t know how it happens, it is all too quick, all to confused, but I manage to set John free.  
A rain of bullets starts. With every shot I fear to feel the pain of torn meat, but some kind of miracle doesn’t make that happen.  
As soon as the last man hits the ground, more show up and surround us, either Cornwall's men or the sheriff's, I can't tell.   
Only when I actually start to kill them, I realize I know these people: they are not only the sheriff’s men, they are Valentine citizens.  
I greeted them in the morning, I served them to drink at the saloon, I talked with them. And I feel sorry, sorry that they have to die for me and my ‘friends’ to survive. These same men who sometimes make me think they don’t deserve to live.  
“They got him! They hit Strauss” yells John above the gunfire noise.  
I stick out from my cover and look at the man laying on the ground.  
For what concerns me, he can stay there and bleed to death. I have no intention to rescue him.  
“Arthur, Fred, cover us. John, help me put Strauss on this wagon, we'll push it” orders Dutch.  
“Okay, Arthur, can you cover the right?” I ask.  
“Sure” he replies and the both of us get behind the wagon that Dutch and John start pushing.  
It’s a massacre, bodies everywhere, bullets raining on us. I feel like my heart should jump out of my chest with every step I take.  
“Arthur, grab Strauss and put him on John's horse. Then we'll get out of here.”  
As Morgan does as he’s asked, and John shoots the last man, I take some deep breaths, and in the mean time I recharge my revolver. Something tells me it’s not over yet.  
“You make sure nobody's following us. We'll get back to camp. We're gonna gather the troops and get 'em to start packing up” says Dutch mounting on his horse.  
“Sure, we can't stick around after this.”  
John makes sure that Strauss won’t fall from the saddle before doing the same.  
More yells and footsteps behind us make me understand that the fight is about to start again.  
“There's more coming” I warn them.  
Spurring the horses they run away, while Arthur and I take cover. The three men have reached us. It’s the sheriff himself, with his deputy and another armed man I’ve never seen before.   
“Miss Faraday. You and your friend should come out now!” he yells from the other side of the street.  
I exchange a look with Arthur who huffs with bother.  
“It’s not my fault if they know me” I whisper.  
“No, but if they know who you are they could trace us too.”  
“So, what do you suggest?”  
Without answering, he opens the barrel of his revolver and throws away the empty cartridges, filling it again with the full ones.  
There is no need to explain, I have already understood. He wants to kill them.   
“Arthur, it’s the sheriff” I murmur.  
“They’ll call a new one.”  
“I know these men.”  
He stops what he’s doing to look at me right in the eye. He knows I don’t want him to do this, but I also know he is going do it anyway.  
“I can’t do this” I say.  
I’ve just killed half the city for him and Dutch and John and, fuck me, even for Strauss. I can’t look at the sheriff’s eyes and pull the trigger without feeling judged, without feeling anything, like nothing has happened.  
“Stay here, then” he replies standing up and firing his gun a couple of times.   
With every shot, grows the awareness that I’ve taken the last step away from the possibility to live a normal life. Not that I had the hope to find a husband and have children like every other woman in the world, but I’ve never believed to become an outlaw either.   
Surely, I didn’t believe I would let someone like Arthur kill innocents in front of me, or kill innocents myself, while I stay here covering my ears trying not to listen to their cries of pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends!  
> How is the quarantine going? (For those of you who are in quarantine of course.)  
> Personally, been closed in my own house isn't fun, but thinking about it, the alternative is worse. I hope everything is fine for you, wherever you come from, and I hope you are liking the story so far.  
> Let me know if you have complaining or you think I could have done anything better, I'm open to critics.  
> See you soon!


	9. You Speak German?

“Are you alright?”  
“Sorry, what?” I ask, pulling myself out of my thoughts.  
“Is everything okay?” asks Arthur again.  
“Yeah, fine… just… I don’t know.”  
“I know it ain’t easy, but it’s them or us.”  
“Uhm…”  
“You should have thought about it when you joined us.”  
I frown when I look at him.  
“So you’re saying it’s my fault now.”  
“Hey don’t turn it on me now. All I’m saying is that you knew who you were getting involved with.”  
Yes, I knew. Or maybe I thought I knew. But what I didn’t know was that it would have changed me, even more than my family’s death changed me.   
When we reach camp, we find a chaos and everybody running from left to right loading things on the wagons.   
It seems that when Dutch talked about gather the troops and leave, he was serious.  
Arthur immediately runs inside Dutch’s tent while I, under Miss Grimshaw’s orders, reach my tent and start packing my things.   
I’ve just started when Arthur comes back, walking in front of me with large heavy steps.   
“The girls will take care of your things, you come with me, we've got work to do. Charles, you come too” he addresses the man who’s carrying a crate.   
Even though I don’t like being addressed this way, I don’t make him ask twice and follow him. He sounds urgent and like me even Charles seems to have understood it.   
In complete silence, we mount on our horses and leave.  
“So where are we going?” asks Charles before I can.  
“Find a new spot to camp. We're moving” answers Arthur.  
“Yeah, well I think we got it. The alternative is Dutch was tired of the disposition of the furniture” I joke.  
“What happened in Valentine?” asks Charles.  
As Arthur tells him about Cornwall, I start roaming in my thoughts and feelings, recalling with incredible accuracy all the scene in my mind.   
“It doesn’t sound good” says Charles’s gloomy voice in the end.   
“And they must know where we are by now” adds Arthur.  
I know he’s talking about the law. Everybody in that camp is in danger right now.  
“So, we're heading south?” ask Charles.  
“Yeah, area called Dewberry Creek. Dutch wants us to give it a look, make sure it's clear and good place to lie low for a while” explains Arthur.  
“I've only known him a few months, but… the way he talks, I never thought I'd see him wanting to head south.”  
“Why? What’s the problem with the south?” I ask.  
“Oh, you’re probably to young to know about the war” Arthur jabbed.  
“I know about the war” I reply huffily.  
“Oh, okay. Well Dutch has his reasons: his father died in the war, killed by a southerner, and he doesn’t like the way they think down there.”  
“Without mentioning the way some of us will be treated” adds Charles.  
Right, I had completely forgot that. Tilly, Lenny, Charles. For me it makes absolutely no difference which part of the country I move to, for Dutch and Arthur and probably the rest of the group, it makes no difference either, but for them…   
“But… it was more than thirty years ago. Things have changed, haven’t they?” I ask with my voice full of hope but the awareness that the answer will be negative.   
As a matter of fact, neither of them answers me and Arthur decides to change topic.  
“Anyway, Dutch is looking for a place to lie low, but I know by now, there ain't no lying low.”  
“There's two many of us for that” adds Charles.  
I smile to myself. Their problem surely isn’t the number. Their problem is that they have a tendency to cause troubles wherever they go.  
“And Dutch will never hide somewhere in a cave. It is against all his principles.”  
As the two of them keep talking about one thing or the other, we finally reach what should be the Dewberry Creek, or… what remains of it. Perhaps once it was a river, but now it's just a big serpent of sand and rocks. The sight is quite discouraging but beautiful at the same time.   
The three of us stop at the peak of a hill to look at the area from above and see if the place is quiet enough.  
“Seems very open” states Charles.   
“Yeah, it does. Ain't sure it'd be the best in the rain, either” adds Arthur.  
“Who told you this would be a good place again?” I ask skeptical.  
“Uhm… I reckon Micah told Dutch.”  
“And he’s the one with the good ideas, right?”  
“Not exactly. We should split up.”  
At Morgan’s sign, we scatter to study the place, understand if it can be a safe spot, well hidden. It doesn't give me this idea.  
I don’t have much time to scout the area when I hear Arthur’s voice call for me. When I reach him and Charles, they are kneeling down next to a corpse. The man has been shot twice: one in the belly, one in the head.  
“Looks like trouble got here before us” remarks Arthur.  
“There's some tracks going in that direction” says Charles analyzing the ground.  
“Let’s take a look.”  
We follow the footprints to a tributary of the main river, dry as well, and there we find a sort of camp with a few tents, but no people.   
Charles and I walk one next to the other, Arthur a few steps ahead of us, his hand on his holster, ready to deal with any problem.  
With a sign of his hand, Charles points to a campfire.   
“Yeah, it seems that they abandoned it recently” I say as he walks towards it.  
“It’s still hot. Maybe they're hiding near here” he says passing his hand on the black ashes.  
“Hey, come have a look” Arthur calls out.   
Charles jerks up to walk fast in his direction with me right after him. Morgan is standing next to a wagon and when we get to him, he points to something under it.   
Charles pulls out his double barrel gun and I take my revolver. There is someone hiding here.  
Arthur removes the boxes and I drop my jaw.  
“What the…”  
I was ready to fight some hidden sons of bitches, instead, a woman with two children show up. The three of them have blond hair and light blue eyes. The woman, the mother, is pointing a shotgun to us, but she doesn't seem to know how to use it.   
I put my gun back in its holster and raise my hands in peace.  
“It's okay… you can come out of there” says Charles.  
Watching the woman as she moves her eyes from him to me, I can understand there is something wrong: they aren’t just scared, they seem confused.  
"You okay?” asks Charles again with an extreme kindness in his voice and some true concern.   
But when he also tries to get closer, reaching out a hand to them, the woman lifts her shotgun, pointing it right to his chest.  
“We don't mean you no harm” he mumbles retreating respectfully.  
Again, the woman moves her eyes from him to me and I make a sign with my hand, encouraging her to come out from under that wagon. In the end, she moves, the shotgun always in front of her, and her precious kids behind.  
“He said are you okay?” asks Arthur’s growling voice. He almost sounds annoyed by all this thing.  
The woman looks at him just like she hasn’t seen him before, like she has become aware of his presence in the exact moment he has spoken.  
“Sprechen Sie Dutch?”  
At the beginning, I’m a little taken aback by those strange sounds that come out from the woman’s mouth and I simply stare at her face, but then, those words that brings me back to another time, to another life, reassemble in the back of my mind, making me able to understand what’s going on.  
“Ja” I say stepping forward.  
Her face lightens. Now she knows that she can be understood.  
Before keeping on, I glance at Arthur and Charles and, just like I expected, they look shocked.  
“Was ist hier passiert?” I ask (What happened here?)  
“Sie haben meinen Mann mitgenommen… eine Gruppe von Männern. Sie nahmen ihn weg.” (They took my husband...a group of men. They took him away)  
“Wohin?” (Where to?)  
She points me in the direction of a small path, dug by the dried out tributary.  
“She said some men took her husband. They're gone that way” I translate for the others.  
“You speak German?” ask Morgan.   
“This isn’t the moment, Arthur.”  
“Tell her we'll take care of it” says Charles.  
“Wir bringer Ihren Mann zu Ihnen zurück.” (We'll bring your husband back to you.)  
“Oh, danke… danke schön” the woman thanks me taking my hand in hers and squeezing it with her trembling touch.  
“Wait. What?”  
Both Charles and I turn to Arthur.  
“Why?” he asks.  
“We can’t leave them like this” I say.  
“This ain’t no business of ours.”I open my mouth to reply to all that mean indifference he is showing, but Charles speaks first.  
“You ain’t as tough and dense as all that” he says with a tone between the reproach and the disappointment, and without adding anything else, he just walks away.  
With a last look at the German woman and her little children, I follow him back to the horses.  
Charles soon finds the tracks that we start to follow in complete silence.   
I can’t believe what I’ve just witnessed: Arthur has been scolded by Charles for his lack of kindness. And he let him do that, accepting the reproach and now following him in something he doesn’t even want to do.   
Why? Maybe because Charles opened his eyes, making him feel ashamed? Does Charles have this power on him? On Arthur Morgan? The second in command? The same man who I’m sure beat Mr. Downes over a few dollars debt?  
“You really wouldn't have helped them?” I ask him.  
“We're wanted men. We got Pinkertons breathing down our necks. We should be moving camp, not running off on some wild goose chase” he answers with the same careless voice he has used before.  
“Come on, Arthur. That's not how you are” replies Charles, but this time it isn’t a reproach, more like a prayer.  
“Well, maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do.”  
No, I’m sure he doesn’t. I’m sure he has no idea about what Strauss sent you to do, because if he’d know, he wouldn’t say such a thing. No, Arthur is not the kind of man ready to help those in need.  
Charles, on the other hand, gives me a completely different feeling. Always trying to do the right thing, he seems to dislike injustice. So my question is: what’s he doing out here, living like a criminal?

Soon, we reach a huge lake, so big that I thought it to be the see, if Arthur hadn’t told me otherwise. Here we stop for a moment to let Charles study the ground better and then off we go, following the shore.   
It is at this moment that they inexplicably start talking about John and Charles informs us he said he wants to go back to Valentine to collect the money from he sheep sale.  
“He'd be a damn idiot going anywhere near that town right now” says Arthur.  
“He reckoned he'd be able to slip in and out” explains Charles.  
“Oh, well… if it's John's idea, it must be a good one.”  
The strong resentment in Arthur’s voice, together with a good dose of irony, makes me glance at him. He’s frowning.  
“What is with you and him?” asks Charles.   
“Well, he disappeared on us for a while, when Jack was real young, a long while, a year or more.”  
This information strikes me like a cold shower. John. Disappeared. For a year. I'd never expect that. And then what, he came back and Abigail forgave him like nothing had happened? No, I’m sure she didn’t. And what about Dutch? They can pretend to be a family, but they are nothing more than a gang in my eyes. Doesn’t the boss have a code? Some sort of punishment for those who defect?  
And John… after all that thing he told me about his family, what he would do for his family, how much he cares about his family, family here, family there…  
I guess that was all Abigail’s work after all.  
“He did?” asks Charles, summarizing my thoughts.  
“And we was… family, you know? Guess I still ain't fully forgiven him for that.”  
Something else appeared in Morgan’s tone now, some… sadness, and when I look at him I notice his eyes are lost in the memories.  
How many things I don’t know?

The path that is following the shore bends and goes right through a wood. When we appear on the other side of it we find a big clearing covered on one side by the trees and on the other by the lake.   
There, near the shore, there is a big tall tree, like an oak or something, and under it someone had the great idea to settle a little camp.   
“Be careful” Arthur warns us.  
“Seems deserted. Let's take a look” says Charles.  
We all approach and dismount the horses.   
This must be where they took the husband of that poor woman. But there is something that I still don’t understand: why did they do that? They’re just a family of settlers, I’m sure they came here with nothing but those few clothes they are wearing. Just like my grandfather did with my mother and her brother.  
“So where is this guy?” asks Arthur, back to his carelessness.  
“I don't know… but you know something? This is a better camp spot than back there. Much easier to defend” remarks Charles.  
I turn my head from left to right, looking carefully around me.   
Yes, he’s right. This would be a perfect camp spot, quiet, covered… It seems that Charles has far better ideas than Micah. The thing doesn’t surprise me.  
As I walk among the few tents, I hear some kind of distant mumble.   
“Hey, what’s this sound?”  
Morgan quickly walks past me, to reach the point where the muffled voice comes from.   
“There's someone here. Yep, this looks like our feller” he says.   
“Quick, cut him free and let's get outta here” urges Charles.  
I draw closer as Arthur takes out his knife to cut some of the ropes that are tying the man, but I can’t understand why he keeps fidgeting like that if we are obviously trying to liberate him.   
When one of his hands is finally free, he pulls away the gag on his mouth and after a couple of deep breaths he yells: “es its eine Falle!”  
My heart loses a beat as I exchange a look with Charles and Arthur and realize they can’t understand. Then, a distant shot coming from the wood behind our backs makes us all turn in that direction.   
“It’s a trap!” I translate for them before running to take cover.  
There’s not much of them, four of five men that Arthur and Charles take out in no time at all while I stay close to the German and set him free completely.   
“Bitte, bitte, helfen Sie mir” he keeps shouting. (Please, help me)  
“Keine Sorge, wir sind für Sie da” I reassure him. (Don't worry, we're here for you.)  
It looks like he can't speak a word of English either.  
When the gunfight ends, I help him to stand up and then Arthur walks past us.  
“Vielen Danke für Ihre Hilfe” says the man.  
“Yeah okay. You wait there a second” he replies reaching Charles and telling him to lead the rest of the group here while he’ll bring the man back to his family.  
I translate what he’s saying to the man who makes a strange movement, almost kneeling down and taking my hand in a worshipping way.  
“Ja wirklich? Oh… danke, vielen Danke. Wie kann ich zu Sie zurückzahlen?” he says grateful. (Really? Oh… thank you. How can I repay you?)  
“Don’t mention it” I chuckle retreating from him and his strange behavior. After all, we have done anything special.  
Arthur walks back to us and takes the German to his horse.  
“You take care of this place. Clean it from the bodies and defend it in case more of them show up” he commands me mounting up.  
When they finally leave, I take a moment to breath. I raise my eyes on the sky, blue right above me but already of a deep orange on the horizon where the sun is slowly going down. I guess I have one hour of light, more or less, so I better put myself to work.   
Looking at the bodies on the ground, a little moan escapes from my lips. Just thinking about the fatigue I have to do to move them…  
My eyes dart on Isabella as an idea pops in my mind. Maybe I won’t make any effort at all.  
I start looking for a rope among all the crates and tents and when I find it I tie one extremity on my saddle and the other to one of the corpses’ legs.   
Then, I take the reins and lead Isabella near the edge of the wood, leaving there the first body. The others will take care of them when they’ll get here.

The deep orange turns into red, which then changes in pink and purple, and then, finally, the sky is all of a dark blue. The moon appears and the night has officially fallen, but I can’t say the same thing about the temperature. Great, in this place the night is almost as hot as the day is.   
Near the water I find a log on which I sat to watch the moon and the beautiful reflections it makes on the lake. The water in front of me has a strange smell, like something between the fresh cut grass and the sugar.  
The peace is broken by a hooves noise behind me that makes me turn around, but I soon realize it’s just Morgan coming back.   
“Everything okay?” I ask as he dismounts and walks closer.  
“Yeah, he kept blabbering all the time. I reckon he was thanking me, but unfortunately I'm not you, so I couldn’t understand shit” he says sitting next to me.  
I smile and shake my head.  
“And then… he gave me this” he adds putting a hand in his satchel.  
When he takes it out again my eyes widen in surprise. It’s a golden bar, a true, real, golden bar.  
"Holy... I've never seen one before. Can I?” I say reaching out a hand to take it.  
Now I understand why those people took the German as hostage: they hoped in a ransom or something. How did they know about the little treasure the man was carrying, that I can’t tell.  
The weight of the little piece of metal makes me smile again as I play a little with it. Then, I hand it back to Arthur, who doesn’t take it immediately.   
I look up, searching for his eyes, but his gaze is low on the grass at our feet. He seems troubled.  
“Something's wrong?”  
“You should keep it.”  
“What? Why? They gave it to you.”  
“That man would have never come back to his family if it wasn't for you and Charles.”  
Oh, right. Now he feels the remorse for not wanting to help them?  
“Give it to Charles, then. I don’t want it.”  
“You’ve done most of the work, you should have it.”  
“That’s not true.”  
“I never would have done it. You… you don't know me.”  
He brings a hand up to rub his face. He seems truly concerned about all that just happened. Maybe he truly feels guilty, maybe Charles truly opened his eyes, maybe he’s not as bad as he looks.  
“I. Don’t. Want it” I repeat taking his hand and leaving him the bar, then closing his fingers on it.  
With a resigned nod he puts it back in his satchel.   
I would like to ask him why he does what he does if he feels bad afterwards, why he doesn’t act differently, but something tells me not to do that and taking a deep breath, I slip down from the log and lay my shoulders on it.  
“What are you doing now?” asks Arthur.  
“Resting. They won't be here for hours.”  
He grunts as an answer.  
“You should try too.”  
“No, I think I’ll keep watch.”  
“As you wish.”  
“How… how the hell can you speak German, by the way?”  
I smile as I hear again that impressed tone of his.  
“German mother. Remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> In the game this is one of my favorite missions (I love everything that has to do with Charles), and Fun Fact, in real life I study languages, English, German and Spanish, so I enjoyed writing this one.  
> Hope you like it too!  
> See you soon.


	10. Love & Hate

A pat on my shoulder makes me jump and forces me to open my eyes. I rub the spot where Arthur hit me, cursing his absence of gentleness, and with a quick look at the lights of the dawn reflecting on the lake, I get up to welcome the rest of the group.  
“Hello Arthur! Miss Faraday!” I hear the distant voice of Dutch greeting.  
He is on one of the wagons, right next to him is seated Charles who receives the reins as soon as Dutch decides to jump down to walk towards us.  
“Miss Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson, put everyone to work. Make this place a home” he commands to the people leading the rest of the caravan.  
I leave him and Arthur alone to discuss their things and start walking after Miss Grimshaw’s cart to receive my orders.   
“Miss Faraday you'll help Mr. Pearson with the kitchen and then me with Dutch and Arthur's tents. When you'll finish you can take care of yours, that's the rule.”  
“Sure, Miss Grimshaw.”  
For the entire morning I unload wagons, place the furniture, assemble tents, and like me almost everybody else is doing the same. For the first time, I’m not hearing any complain, except those of Miss Grimshaw when she sees we’re not doing it as it should be done.  
At noon we all take a little pause to eat something and then back again to work. Only in the late afternoon I can concentrate completely on my own tent.   
I take the white piece of rolled cloth from the wagon and place it on the ground. Next to me, Abigail and John have already assembled theirs and now Abigail is on the inside, finding a good place for her few belongings.   
Then, I go ask around for some sticks, wires, nails and a hammer, but when I come back and I see the work that awaits for me, that little strength I still have leaves my body and I let everything fall on the ground.   
That little sleep I had last night wasn’t enough and all the fatigue of the day is starting to be felt. I sit on the ground next to the unrolled tent and feel all my muscle ache. My arms, my legs, my back. There isn’t a single spot that doesn’t hurt.   
“You okay?”  
I lift my head and look at Charles, who has stopped a couple of steps away from me.   
“Hey. Yeah, I’m fine, just… too tired for this” I say pointing at the tent.  
Without a word he walks closer and crouches next to me, taking the hammer and a couple of nails from the ground.  
“No no no, Charles, you don’t have to” I say reaching out a hand to grab his arm and stop him.  
“I’ll do it, just give me a moment.”  
“Let me help” he murmurs placing one nail on the ground.  
I don’t want him to do anything for me, I’m more that capable to do it on my own.  
I lift on my knees and take another nail waiting for a good moment to take the hammer from his hands.  
He notices my movement and with a little curve on his lips he places a hand on my shoulder he gently pushes me back to my place.  
“Sit” he murmurs.  
I smile at his act of kindness. He can be so sweet sometimes. But again he doesn’t have to do anything for me.  
I slowly stand up and start placing the first stick on the ground.  
“You stubborn, huh?” jokes Charles and again I smile at him when he looks up at me.  
I must say, plant a tent with another person is much easier and faster than do it by myself. As we finish, I thank him and head to the wagon to take my things, but I don’t have the time to take the sack that he walks past me and takes it for me, bringing it back to my tent.   
Shaking my head, I follow him and as soon as he comes out again I try to give him the most annoyed face I can make, eve though I’m not annoyed by him, just impressed.  
“Why?” I ask unable to restrain a smile.  
“You should rest.”  
My eyes fix in his and something strange happens, something… electrical runs down my spine.   
My feet slowly lead me to him and as I get closer, my heart pounds inside my chest. I expect him to move, but he doesn’t, he just stays there and waits for me to get to him and touch his cheek with my lips, leaving a little wet trace on his dark skin.  
I don't know why I've done that, I don't know what happened inside my head. He’s been so kind and helpful that I felt a simple thank you wouldn’t be enough.  
I take a step away form him and stare at his face waiting for a reaction, but he just walks away without showing a single emotion.   
Is he pleased? Bothered? Embarrassed? I can’t tell shit about his behavior and his lack of expression makes me feel stupid, so now my cheeks get warm as I look at him go away.   
I shouldn’t have done that. Who knows what he will think of me now. That I’m an idiot, stupid girl? That my gesture was sweet? That it was too much?  
Feeling a little dizzy and confused I get inside my tent and close it behind me.   
Laying down the last thought in my mind is how it would have been if Charles had reacted. 

A strong warm light wakes me, the light of noon. The cloth above me is colored of a deep yellow, and the air inside the tent is hot and heavy.   
How much have I slept? It’s incredible, I was so tired I even forgot to eat, and now I feel so empty.  
I walk outside with the intention to put some food in me, maybe also some coffee, if they left me some.   
As I walk past the campfire, I see Micah and Javier, the first cleaning his gun, the second working on some knifes. They remind me I should do the same with my weapons.  
“Ahh…Where have you been? We were worried!”  
“Morning to you, Micah” I reply, but I don’t have any intention to stop and chat. The kitchen is my target.  
“I was about to send Javier to check on you. After all, he already visited your tent, haven't you, greaser?”  
I stop walking as soon as I realize what he’s just said. I turn in his direction and move my eyes from his sneer to Javier’s obviously embarrassed expression.   
“Ahi, what are you saying, idiota!” he says under his breath.  
On my mind I have one thousand different emotions. I would like to react, say something, do something. Ask him why he has done that, what was his intention. Scare me maybe? Spy on me?   
I search for his eyes, but he is carefully avoiding me. I do as to take a step in his direction to face him, here and now, ask him the tons of questions I have, but there is something else: a strong uneasiness that slowly turns into the impossibility for me to stay a second more in his presence and especially, in the presence of Micah, who for all the time has done nothing but stare at me with that mean grimace on his face.  
I turn my back at them and go away as fast as possible, with my guts suddenly twisted.  
Dammit! I had forgot about all that thing, completely erased it from my mind, and now I find out it was Javier all along? What the fuck man!   
Near the kitchen, I find Mr. Pearson and Sadie arguing who at least manage to keep Javier out of my mind for a second.   
“I don't understand, why complain? Everyone has a job to do and this is yours” says the cook.  
“But I didn't choose it. I'd like to do something else” replies Sadie showing some new energy I’ve never seen before on her.  
“Well, we can't always choose. Oh, morning Miss Faraday. Is everything alright?”  
“Err, yes, sure. I’m just… taking something to eat.”  
I don’t ask for the causes of the arguing. There is already a lot going on in my mind. I just grab the first thing from the wagon and go sit at the nearest table.   
Should I face him directly? Should I let it go? It doesn’t matter what I’ll do, the important thing is that I have to keep it quiet. No-one has to know it was Javier or God knows what they’ll think of me, what… what Charles will think of me.  
I shake my head as his name pops in my mind. Why am I concerned about what he thinks? Anyway, it’s definitely better for me if no-one knows. It won’t be easy to keep it quiet though: as they have already proved, voices in this camp travel fast, and if we add the fact that Micah knows it too…  
How the hell can Micah know about it? I guess there really was someone spying that night, and it was him, looking at Javier as he… what the heck was he doing?   
I definitely need to ask him. I need to take a moment and speak with him, possibly with no-one else around, so that they won’t get curious.  
I give a start when I remember about something important.  
Shit! How could I forget about it? Well, it’s not too late and I don’t reckon it will be a problem if I send the letter this afternoon. The answer, if there will ever be one, will come in less than a couple of days. I need paper and a pen.  
I leave the can of food, barely touched, on the table and run to Dutch’s tent. He's not there, but I find the woman with red hair seated on the bed.  
“Morning, Miss O’Shea. Can I ask you something?”“Call me Molly, dear. What can I do for you?”she asks with a strong Irish accent, but in any case not as annoying as Sean’s. I start to think that it’s him who annoys me.  
“I need some paper and a pen. I have to write a letter” I explain.  
She gets up from the bed and opens a trunk from where she takes what I asked.  
“There it is.”  
“Thank you Miss O'Shea. Molly” I correct myself with a smile that she reciprocates.  
I go back to the table where I was seated before and open the white paper racking my brains to write something down.

Dear Albert,  
I’m not in Valentine anymore. I moved way south following that strange group of men I’ve been talking to you about.   
I’ve found them in the end and I’ve also asked them about Hunt and his boys, but they know nothing so far. They aren’t as bad as you said they would be, but they aren’t as good as I thought they would be, either. They are criminals, just like the others, but at the same time some of them are different. All I’m trying to say is: you don’t have to worry about me, I don’t feel in danger with them.   
So, as I said, I’m not in the Heartlands and now you have to send your letters…

My hand stops writing and I lift my head to look around me.   
Where am I? I have no idea, and I have no idea which is the closest town. I need to ask someone.  
Lucky me, Hosea is walking not far from me and I call him.  
“Morning” he says walking closer.  
“Morning to you. Listen, there’s a town or a station from where I can send this letter?”  
“Yes, it's called Rhodes. Local people, typical of the South, most of them linked to the plantation business and esp…”  
“Yeah, okay, thank you.”  
I realize I may have been too rude, so I add a little smile to my sentence and a “how’s your day going?”  
“Fine enough, the hot weather is good for my poor health. Who you’re writing to?” he inquires.  
“Just a friend” I cut short.  
“Okay, well, we’ll talk later, then.”  
As he walks away I can finally return to my letter.

…now you have to send your letters to Rhodes, in Lemoyne. I really hope to hear from you soon. Much time has passed and I’m scared we’re losing them. This country is big, maybe too big and they could really be everywhere, but you said someone saw them in New Hannover last time, so I just hope they haven’t moved too far from here in the last month.   
Anyway, write me, please. Even though you have no news. I haven’t heard from you for weeks and I miss you.   
Yours, Fred.

I wait a couple of minutes for the ink to dry out and then I fold the letter, writing the address. The last time he wrote to me he was in a guesthouse in Ohio, looking for Hunt up there. I hope he’s still there.  
I open my satchel to put the letter inside, but there is already something there, taking all the room: the little toy I got made for Jack.   
How could I completely forget about it? I have to give it to Abigail.   
I don’t need much time to find her. She’s checking Jack as he walks around camp, playing with a stick.   
“Hi, Abigail. Can I talk to you a moment?”  
“Yes, of course I needed to speak with you too.”  
“Really? Okay, you first.”  
“No no, you first. What’s that?” she asks pointing at the little horse in my hands.  
“The reason why I wanted to talk to you. It’s for Jack” I add handing her the toy.  
“But… but, why? You didn’t have to…”  
“I know but… he’s a great kid and I thought he deserved something, you know, normal.”  
“Well, thank you but…”  
She stops and suddenly, I feel there is something more that gratefulness in her voice, she sounds sorry, just like for some reason she couldn’t accept the gift.  
“What?” I ask concerned.  
“I-I wanted to ask you something, but now, after this, I don’t know.”  
“Hey, stop being silly. What's the problem?”  
She moves her eyes around for a while looking at the ground, the sky, the tents, someone who walks next to us, everything that could give her time before answering.   
“I-I need some money to buy Jack some new clothes. The ones he has are too old. But I didn’t know who I could ask. His father is… a-and so I thought about you…”  
She thought about me? Why? Not that I won’t do it, of course I will, for Jack and for her, but… why me? She trusts me so much?  
She looks mortified. It mustn’t be easy for her to ask a stranger for money. And if she needs to go to town, this could be my chance to go with her and send that letter.   
“Do you have work to do, right now?” I ask.  
“N-no. Why?”  
“Go and give this to Jack. Then get ready. We go to the city.”  
“Now?”  
“Yeah, now.”  
“But…”“I don't want to hear apologies. Nor thanks. Just get ready.”  
The smile on her face tells me I managed to convince her finally. As she walks away I head to the horses and remove the saddle from Isabella so to tie her to one of the wagons.   
“What do you think you’re doing?”   
I turn around and exchange a look with Miss Grimshaw. She’s looking at me with cold severe eyes and her hands on her hips.   
“I’m going to the city, Miss Grimshaw. With Abigail.”  
“Abigail?” she asks perplexed.  
“Yeah, err, we have some things to take care of.”  
“Uhm… alright then. Be quick, I need you.”  
After Abigail and Jack reach me, and the boy thanks me for the gift, surely an insistence of his mother, we jump on the wagon and take the little path out of camp.  
“Hey, ladies where are you going?” asks Lenny’s playful voice.  
“Women's business” I answer with a giggle.

The road to Rhodes is quiet and we get there less than half an hour later. Driving past the train station, right at the entrance of the town, I spot the sign with the words “post office” written on it.   
At least I know exactly where I have to go after I leave Abigail at the general store.   
Easier done than said, we find the general store right after, the first building on the left on the main street, and getting down from the wagon I tell Abigail I’ll be back soon. She doesn’t inquires further and with a simple nod she goes inside the store while I walk the same road we’ve come from, back to the station.   
“Good morning, I need to send this letter” I say to the man behind the glass.  
“You're lucky, Miss. The diligence will leave soon. Your letter will be sent immediately.”  
Yes, lucky me.   
I go back to the store where I help Abigail with the choice of Jack’s new clothes and then pay for the purchases.   
The sun is going down when we get back to camp. We have just passed the wood and stopped the wagon, when I see John approaching us.   
“Hey, where have you been?” he asks.  
Abigail climbs down the wagon and I help Jack, who runs to his father as soon as his feet touch the ground.  
“Look daddy!” he exclaims making a spin to show John his new pants and shirt.  
“Oh, you've been shopping. You bought yourself a new dress as well?” he asks to Abigail.  
“Jack needed new clothes” she replies coldly walking past him with a reproachful expression on her face.  
Then, she turns around and addresses me personally, and also a little theatrically I think.  
“Thank you. You’ve done more for me and Jack today that some people did in a lifetime.”  
With a quick glance at John’s annoyed face, I can do nothing but smile at her.   
I know she’s right. I know where her husband’s fault lies, but attacking him in this way, so passive aggressively, I don’t think this will make things better. Anyway, as they say: never interfere between husband and wife, and I surely have no intention to do that.  
I’m untying Isabella from the wagon, when John walks closer.  
“Why you do that?” he inquires.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You bought the clothes, didn’t you?”  
“Yeah.”“Why? Why did you spend your money for a kid you don’t even know?”  
“Someone has to” I say with a shrug, but I have no idea what my words could cause.  
John lowers his head and a bitter smile appears on his lips.  
“Ah... now I understand. So, you’re another who thinks I don’t care about them? She told you, right? About what a useless man I am?”  
“W-what?”  
I stop working with the stings around Isabella’s neck and turn around to look at him right in the eye.  
What does he want from me? To tell him he’s a good father? I can’t, because I don’t know and because it is not my duty to tell him.   
Suddenly, I remember of what Arthur said the other day, about John leaving them for a year. Maybe after all this time, Arthur isn’t the only one who hasn’t forgiven him. Maybe even John hasn’t forgiven himself still, and being attacked, he feels even more guilty.  
I try to give him the most sincere and sympathetic smile I can.  
“No, I didn't say that, John. What I mean is… you're always working and someone has to take care of the rest. I won't never dare to suggest you don't care about your family.”  
My words seem to reassure him a little, even if not completely.   
“Come on, let’s go” I say freeing Isabella completely and moving towards the rest of the camp.   
The red light of the sunset hits the tents making them all look like big bonfires and people are already queuing for Pearson’s stew and gathering around the tables and campfires to eat.  
So, my precious letter has finally being sent and I’ve spent some other money from my own pocket for a stranger. Not that they don’t deserve it, but if I had less I sure wouldn’t…   
Yeah, that’s strange. Why do I have all that money in my satchel? I have it since the train heist, when Morgan gave me my part and…  
“Oh no” I mumble to myself and stop walking.  
“What?” asks John doing the same.  
“Uhm… I forgot about something. I’ll see you around” I cut short and run towards Dutch’s tent.  
I just hope no-one noticed I still haven’t put my part of money in that bloody box. First rule Fred: follow their rules and make them trust you, and you forgot it.   
With my relief, there is no soul near Dutch’s tent when I get there, so I can put the money in the box without anyone noting it. Or at least, that was what I thought.  
“I was wondering when you would do that.”  
I jump and turn around just like I was caught stealing.   
“Dutch. Y-you scared me” I mumble and immediately look away.  
“I'm really sorry… I know it’s been days but, uhm…”  
“I know, I know. You don't have to apologize. These days have been hard for everyone and you worked hard, everybody has seen that.”I scoff. Here we go again with the voices that inexplicably travel way faster than every other place and his inappropriate flattering that makes me uneasy.  
“You don’t have to.”  
“What?”  
“Say these things to me. I'm just trying to keep busy.”  
I raise my eyes from the ground and meet his, those eyes that look way too hard for the kind words he’s been saying.   
“I-I’ll go eat something” I quickly add as the embarrassment takes me.  
“Sure” he says turning his back at me and walking inside his tent.  
I walk towards the pot with the stew, hoping to be able to really eat something this time. Then, heading towards the main campfire I notice it is full of people and craving for some peace and quiet, I turn around and aim for the scout fire. There, I’m sure to find only someone on guard duty, hopefully the silent Charles.   
And when I get there I actually see there is only one person seated there, but it isn’t Charles. It’s Javier.   
Now what? This could be my chance to face him. So… goodbye to my peace and quiet.   
I take a few steps more in his direction and clear my throat. As soon as he looks up and understand it’s me, he stands from the log to go away.   
“No… Javier, please.”  
I manage to make him stop. Giving his back at me, he sighs.  
“I would like to talk to you.”  
“Sorry chica, I have something to do.”  
What an original excuse.   
“That's a lie and you know it. Please, just… sit with me.”  
He turns around and sits back on the log, his eyes always fixed on the ground. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t reckon I would be able to stand his gaze.   
“I-I understood, when Micah said that thing this morning, that it was you who got inside my tent the other night” I start as I go sit next to him.   
“I've being trying to understand who could have been for days.”  
No answer, not even a glance, just a little frown. If this is the direction he wants to take in this conversation, he got it wrong.  
I put the plate on the ground next to me with impatience and turn completely in his direction.  
“Listen, I don't want you to apologize. I just want you to tell me why you did that.”  
Finally, he looks at me. I really preferred when he was staring at the ground because now, those eyes on me are turning my blood into cold water.  
“You want to know why I did that?” he murmurs.  
Yes, yes I want to know, but I can’t say it. I can’t even nod. All I can do is stare at him feeling my body more and more frozen with every second that I stay in his presence.  
Before I’m aware of it, he is on me: his hands on my hips his mouth just an inch away from mine. He brings his hand on my face and squeezing my cheeks slightly he keeps me still as he tries to kiss me.   
Readily, I raise my arms and push him away, maybe with too much strength and as soon as free I stand from the log.   
With my heart racing, I open my mouth to tell him I’m sorry, to tell him I understand what he wants, what he feels, but it isn’t the same for me, but I can’t. Just like before all I can do is stare at him.   
His face changes. Now he seems hurt, I don’t know if because of my gesture or whatever expression I have on my face right now.  
It’s him who pulls the both of us out of the embarrassment, standing up and going away, walking towards the wood and disappearing in the darkness.

The day starts with an argument between Sadie and Mr. Pearson, just like yesterday.  
“I don't understand what's the problem of working with me” yells Mr. Pearson while I take fast sips from my cup.  
“The problem is exactly you, you arrogant son of a bitch!” Sadie screams back.  
I leave the cup with the rest of the dirty dishes and run away from them as fast as I can.   
Wandering around, I spot Javier in the distance and my feet randomly decide to stop walking as the memory of last night comes back to me.   
He looks so different from afar, when I’m not able to see his eyes and all that… lust and violence they express.   
I jump as he turns his head in my direction and catches a glimpse of me staring at him. Pretending to look around, I see Miss Grimshaw in the distance and decide that it is better for me if I keep busy for the rest of the morning.   
The work actually helps me to make the time pass faster and soon I find myself again in the kitchen where I take something from the supplies and go sit at the little round table.   
I’m eating the first proper meal after the fail attempts of yesterday when Kieran comes to say “hi”.  
“It's been a while since we spent some time together. Would you like to do something this afternoon?” he asks kindly.   
I stare at his smiling face for a while hoping that the idea seeding in my mind is a wrong one.  
“Y-yeah, why not? You've got, uhm, something in mind?”  
“If there's something I'm good at is fishing. Do you like it?”  
“I-I've never learned.”“It's not a problem, I'll teach you.”  
He wants some time alone with me? Is this the same thing that happened with Javier? It may be, or it may be not.   
“That… would be great” I say with false enthusiasm.  
"You've got a fishing rod?”  
I shake my head hoping that this will withhold his intentions.  
“I'll provide you one. We see in ten minutes on the shore. I know a place near here, it's a good spot” he says going away in a haste.  
Whoa! What enthusiasm. He really can’t wait. Should I worry? Why am I asking myself? I am already worried. What if I have to reject him too? Two people in less of 24 hours? Is that possible?  
I finish my can and slowly head to the shore where Kieran is already waiting for me with the two fishing poles he promised.  
Shit shit shit.  
“Okay, follow me” he says leading the way.  
“So… how are you? How is it going at the camp?” I ask politely to avoid an embarrassing silence.  
“Good enough. Every now and then someone calls me O'Driscoll or says something mean, but I try not to pay attention to them.”  
We talk a little about the gang. It seems Bill and Sadie have a particular taste in threatening him. It doesn’t surprise me: Sadie hates him because he was part of Colm’s gang, and Bill… well, I don’t know why Bill hates him. And it seems Kieran is growing fonder of Dutch and his philosophy, and he also shows a particular interest for Mary-Beth.   
Maybe I got it wrong, maybe he truly wants to spend some time with me just as friends. It would be great to be friends with him, he’s a good buddy.  
I decide to push a little more on the “Mary-Beth” thing and that’s how I get to know she volunteered to teach him how to read, something that seems to please him.  
“I can understand why you like her, she seems sweet and kind” I say.  
“I-I... I've never… h-how can you…”  
I laugh at the idea that I’ve embarrassed him.   
“I don't think she likes me. We don’t talk much” he adds with a sadder tone.  
“No, I think she does. But maybe she's just shy. Next time, you make the first move and… I don’t know suggest her something to do.”Following the shore, we reach the spot he was talking about and giving me one of the rods, he explains how to use it, how to put the bait correctly and how to make the fish catch it.  
“It depends a lot on the moment of the day. If it's too hot they don't come to the surface. Early in the morning and late in the evening, that’s when they feed themselves” he says with a know-it-all voice that makes me chuckleThen, after the lesson, we spend some time in silence, enjoying the place and waiting for something to catch the bait, until he speaks again.  
“You're working a lot recently. And with the men too.”  
I frown at his statement. What does he want to know?  
“Yeah, I just… do as they ask.”  
“And how is it going with Charles?”  
I feel a clutch on my stomach as I hear that name.  
“Charles? W-what about him?”  
“I saw you two the other day, when he helped you with your tent. You thanked him in a very… loving way.”  
“No no no, I… he’s been so kind with me and I…”  
I really don’t know what to say. There isn’t a right answer to this because I don’t know why I did what I did the other day.  
As I hear Kieran giggle I look at him and at his mischievous smile with the most annoyed face I can make.  
Touché, asshole.  
“What kind of fishes can we find in a lake like this?” I ask diverting the conversation.   
He starts making me a true lesson on all the kind of fishes he knows and where I can find them. He talks and talks and talks, until he runs out of words and we decide to go back, even though we’ve caught nothing.  
“Thank you, it was good to spent some time with you. You’re one of the few who I think I can trust in here” he says as we get back.  
With a smile, I lay one of my hands on his shoulder.  
“It was fun for me too, Kieran. Thank you. Whatever happens, you can come and tell me, okay?”  
As we depart, I walk towards the central campfire where a crowd has gathered to chat. There’s Micah, Charles, Uncle, Javier, Bill and John. Being careful not to look at the mexican, I sit on the only free place near Micah.  
“Evening folks.”  
“Where have you been? We haven't seen you for the entire afternoon” says John.   
Why does he care where I’ve been now?  
“I was fishing, with Kieran.”  
“Any luck?” asks Uncle.  
“Nothing. I'm a terrible fisher” I laugh.  
“So, apart from fucking the Mexican, you're messing around with the O'Driscoll as well?”  
Micah’s words break the light atmosphere making an heavy silence fall on all of us. I fix my eyes on the ground, unable to exchange a look with anybody or to utter a single word.   
I knew Micah would have used that information against me, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to keep the secret for long, but still I hoped he wouldn’t do such a theatrical thing. And now everyone around the fire has God knows what ideas in their minds. John, Uncle, Bill and… Charles. Especially Charles.   
I have already kissed him, and now Micah says I’ve done things with Javier. He must think I’m some kind of whore, going with everybody who whets my appetite.  
“Shut up, Micah” snaps Javier making everything worse, if possible.  
As I dare to look up for a second I realize everybody is staring at me.   
Oh God, how do I come out of this? Why Micah as to treat me this way? What have I done to him?  
I can’t stay silent, I have to counterattack, make the others understand all he’s saying are lies.  
“It seems you pay a lot of attention to what I do, Mr. Bell.”“Oh, it’s true, then. That's why he went inside your tent the other night.”  
No no no! I’ve made things worse, way worse. I’ve served him the shot on a silver plate.  
Javier suddenly stands and goes away and I have no idea what to do to make this stop. I could do the same but… it would be ambiguous.  
Unintentionally, I glance at Charles. His eyes low on the ground, frowning slightly, his shoulders curved. What is going on inside that head?  
It’s Arthur who breaks the tension, coming to sit with us with a plate of stew. He takes the place Javier left empty unaware of what is happening around him.  
“Mmmm... I'd like some stew. Why don't you bring me some?” teases Micah getting dangerously close to my ear.  
“I'm not your slave” I growl.  
“No, you're everyone's slave.”  
“Stop it, Micah” says Charles and just hearing his low voice my guts twist.  
“You defend her 'cause you fuck her too? What? You're all in love with this bitch?”  
I tighten my teeth as they all start complaining about his stupid behavior.   
I stand up not able to take anymore, and leave the fire heading to my tent to hide myself into it.  
“You've finally understood what your place is, woman, haven't you?” I hear him shouting at my back.  
My place. What does he know about what my place is? My place was next to my family until a son of a bitch like him took it away form me. And now my place is with a bunch of outlaws who seem to do anything to undermine me and embarrass me. My place is around that fucking campfire and he will never take the freedom to sit there away from me.   
I change direction, heading to the big pot. I grab a plate from the table and fill it. As full as it can be.   
The hand that’s holding the plate is shaking slightly as I walk back.  
“Here” I say approaching him.   
As a wicked smile appears on his face, I slam the plate right to his face.   
He wasn’t expecting it and he can’t stop the meat and sauce that hit his eyes.  
He jerks up complaining and spitting and trying to clean his eyes and I take a couple of steps back as a precaution. I’m sure he won’t be pleased.  
Again, I become aware that everybody around the fire is staring at me, but I don’t find the courage to look at them.   
After he has cleaned his face as he can, Micah’s eyes fall on me. He is a mask of rage.  
“YOU WHORE!”  
He reaches out a hand that I’m not able to avoid and I feel his five fingers around my throat.  
“I should kill you right now you disrespectful bitch!” he shouts a few inches from my face, spitting sauce everywhere.   
With my chest going rapidly up and down, I don’t care about anything else. He surely seems dangerous, but I won’t be mistreated anymore.  
“I only respect those who respect me in turn, Mr. Bell” I say among my teeth, keeping my breath to avoiding the bad smell coming from him.  
“I could kill you, if I wanted to” he hisses.  
I know I should be the reasonable one now, say something to calm him down, to put an end to this, but he pushed me beyond my limits, and now I can’t go back.  
“You can try, but they will stop you” I whisper, my eyes always fixed in his.  
His hand around my throat loosens and his lips open in a smirk.  
Arthur shows up next to us before he can say or do anything else and putting a hand on Micah’s shoulder he pushes him away.  
“I think you should go” he says in a way that doesn’t take a no as an answer.  
Outnumbered, he does as he is asked, with a last look full of promises of vengeance.   
I realize all my muscles are stiff and contracted and I take a couple of deep breaths trying to release the tension. My guts are twisted, my heart is hammering, my eyes can’t move from the ground.   
Out of the corner of my eye, I’m able to understand Arthur isn’t the only one who stood up to come in my rescue. Scared of what Micah could have done, most of the people were ready to stop him, and I’m glad of that.   
It seems that I’ve finally found my place among them, and that they have accepted me.   
Things are slowly going in the right direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What should I add to this chapter? The more she starts to now them, the more it seems things are complicating. As I have already said: Charles's parts are sweet, Micah's parts are super fun to write, and Javier's... well, Javier is something.  
> I hope you liked it!  
> As always if you have questions, complains, if you spot embarrassing language errors, please let me know. I won't be offended I promise.  
> See you!


	11. The Day of Reckoning

I watch the sun going up as I take slow sips from my cup of coffee. At my feet, right where the little wooden pier ends, some kind of big fishes are dancing in the clear water.  
I turn around as I hear some footsteps approaching on the unstable planks.  
“Morning, Dutch.”  
“Miss. You’re up early” he states stopping by my side with his hands in his pockets.  
“Bad dreams. It happens sometimes.”“I heard you argued with Micah the other night. You must be very brave.”  
“Or very stupid. I reckon he isn't the right man to mess with.”  
“I know what he may seem, but I’ve seen what kind of man hides behind that tough look.”  
Yeah, an asshole.   
“Anyway, I’m going to look for some work. See you around” I say heading back to the shore.  
I reach the kitchen where Pearson and Sadie, in a couple of days, moved from the insults to the threats.  
“Please Sadie, if you kill him, we'll starve” I joke, but she isn’t in the mood for joking.  
Spotting Miss Grimshaw in the distance I prepare myself to a day of working.  
I think she likes me somehow and I think the reason is because I do everything she asks and I don't undermine her authority in camp. But I don't do that on purpose. I just don't care about authority and I do what she orders me just to keep busy.   
We are working together, when my attention is caught by Arthur, Dutch and Hosea heading to the horses. They are surely going somewhere, but where? Whatever kind of job requires the three of them together, must be something important.   
“Miss! Focus here please! You still have a lot to do” Miss Grimshaw calls me off when she notices my distraction.  
She lets me free right after lunch, so I go sit at the table under the big tree and polish my gun. It’s been a while since I did it last time, and I feel the guilt raising in me as I vigorously rub the piece of cloth on it.   
“Hey, you wanna practice with the bow?”  
I jump and turn around almost letting everything falling from my hands.   
“Charles” I whisper with a nervous smile.  
“Sure, why not? If you don't give me a stroke before my time has come.”  
“I don't think it would be so easy to get rid of you.”  
I laugh and stand up following him towards the horses.   
“So… what do we hunt today?”  
“No hunt today, just practice.”  
I frown at his back, confused by his words.  
“On what?”   
“You’ll see.”All this mystery suddenly makes me nervous and even more confused, but he never gave me a reason not to trust him, so I guess that’s what I’m going to do.   
He leads me on the hills and we walk through some ranch houses. Only the sight of them reminds me how beautiful my father’s house was.  
We reach a field, an open and airy place where the grass reaches our ankles and in the distance I see a single shape standing still among the nothingness. Only from close up I’m able to understand that, what I’m looking at, is a scarecrow.   
“Ah... if you wanted me to practice on people you should have brought Micah” I joke dismounting Isabella.  
“Be careful with him. You don't know how dangerous he can be.”  
“From whose cornfield you stole it?” I ask pointing at the shape in front of us.   
“I haven’t. I borrowed it from that farm over there and promised to give it back when we finish.”  
I smile as I keep asking myself how he could be a criminal, a bad man.   
“Now, come here. This is the perfect distance you can start practicing” he adds pointing at the ground at his feet.  
I walk towards him with my bow in hands and place by his side.   
“Pull the wire. Good, now aim at the chest.”  
I look at him with the wire of the bow stretched as much as I can.   
“Yes, the chest and the head, these are the deadly parts. But the head is still too difficult.”   
I nod understanding. If he says something is too much for me, it is too much for me. He surely knows better.  
My arm starts aching so I decide to shoot the arrow, but as I imagined it doesn’t hit the scarecrow.   
“Pull again” he commands and I feel him moving behind me.   
I do as he asks, pushing away the strange feeling that’s rising from my stomach at the idea of him out of my field of view, and, just like it wasn’t enough, he even places one of his big hands on my arm.   
“Before you shoot keep your breath, it'll help you with the aim.”  
This time I manage to hit the chest of our straw- made friend.  
“Ah!” I exclaim full of self satisfaction.  
“Good, again.”  
This is something else I like about Charles. He knows when you need a praise and when you need a reproach.   
Eager to go to the next level of difficulty, I take another arrow and work on my aim, when Charles speaks again.   
“So, is it true what Micah says about Javier?”  
I lower the bow to look at him. Is he talking about the other night? Sure, he is. Does he believe what Micah said about me? If he does, if he really thinks I’m that kind of girl…  
“It depends, what does he say?”  
“That he was in your tent the other night.”  
I gulp and move my eyes away, incapable to bear his gaze. I don’t want him to think so poorly of me.  
“I don't know why Javier did that. Or at least, I’m not sure.”  
“He did that in secret? So its not true that you and him…”  
I find the courage to meet his eyes again. Is it hope that I’m reading in him, or is it just my impression?  
“Do you really believe in what Micah says?” I ask a little disappointed by him and his judgement.  
“Well, not really, but he thinks…”  
“Yeah, I know what he thinks of me. I don’t care. I just wished I could make him spit some of his own teeth the other night.”  
“You must be careful. He’s smart and vindictive."Do I hear concern? Is he worried for me?  
“I won’t let him hurt me” I say with a smile.  
“And then, I've got you covering my back, right?”  
He looks surprised by my statement and as we look at each other in the eye, my mind goes back to the kiss I gave him some days ago.   
With a quick twist in my guts, I look at the scarecrow and try to focus again on what I must do.  
After a few more good shots, Charles decides I can move to the next level and commands me to aim at the head, but he is right: it isn’t easy at all.   
“Wait” I hear him mumble after a couple of failed tries.  
Again he moves behind me and lays a hand on my arm, the one that pulls the wire, and adjusts a little my aim.   
“Remember, both eyes open” he murmurs and his warm voice flows inside me.  
“And use your stomach to concentrate your strength. Here” he adds bringing a hand on my stomach and pushing slightly.   
I lose my balance a little and lay against his chest feeling him stiff at my contact.   
“I-I’m sorry.”  
The words come out of me like an incomprehensible slur. All my senses are blurred, a lump on my throat doesn’t allow me to breath properly, but by no means I want him to break the contact.   
He’s making me feel something I haven’t been feeling in a long time: it’s like a warm blanket had been put on my shoulders on a freezing winter night after I had been under the rain.   
But in the end, he removes the hand from my belly and pushes me back into my place.   
“Keep your breath” he says and from his detached tone I can understand he is still in control, just like what has happened meant nothing to him.  
Maybe it is like this, maybe he hasn’t felt what I’ve felt. The thought makes something cold spread inside me exactly where a second before there was warmth.   
Concentrating for a second on my main task, I let the arrow go. When it hits the head of the scarecrow, I lower the bow and take a step away from Charles.   
“Fine. We'll keep practicing and you'll become a good hunter” he says walking towards the scarecrow.   
I fix my eyes on his shape as he starts recollecting the arrows from the straw puppet and from the ground all around it.   
How can it be that I was the only one to feel in that… way when he touched me? How can he keep always that composure?   
Suddenly, he turns around, catching me staring at him, and I quickly move my eyes away and move towards Isabella almost in the same moment, pretending that nothing has happened.  
While we prepare to go back, I give him some more glimpses hoping that he will exchange my meaningful looks, but he doesn’t.   
That something cold that started in my belly, now spreads more and more, reaching my lungs and then my throat. It’s disappointment. And disillusion.   
What am I doing? What am I hoping for? Stop being a child, stop being silly, Fred. It isn’t in your nature.

This night I'm having a troubled sleep. Memories change in dreams and screams, shots and yelling men overwhelm my mind.   
I get up, covered in sweat, with the face of a man covered in blood still before my eyes and the screams of a girl in my ears.   
It takes me a while to understand that someone is actually shouting, but it isn’t a girl, it’s Sadie and Mr. Pearson arguing.  
I get out of my tent and the strong southern sun hits me, forcing me to close my eyes.   
Oh gosh, I must have an horrible face right now. Let’s try with some coffee.  
As I head to the kitchen, I notice even Arthur has been caught by the cook and Sadie’s screams across camp.   
“I ain't chopping vegetables for living” she’s saying.   
“Oh, I'm sorry, madam. Was there insufficient feathers in your pillow?” replies a sarcastic Arthur.  
I approach the pot and take some coffee.  
“Look, I ain't lazy, Mr. Morgan. I'll work, but not this.”  
“Well ain't cooking a work?”  
I stand and turn around to look at the scene, taking a sip from my cup.  
“My husband and I, we shared the work. All of it. I was out in the fields, I can hunt, carry a knife or use a gun. But I tell you, you keep me here, I'll skin that fat old coot and serve him for dinner!”  
“Watch your damn mouth you crazy, goddamn fishwife!” shouts Pearson, but the only result is that Sadie gets even angrier and throws herself against the cook.   
I widen my eyes at all that fierce energy and I can’t restrain a smile as Arthur separates the two of them. If it wasn’t for him… well I can't even imagine what would have happened.   
“Enough! Both of ya!” he yells.  
“Well come with me then. You wanna head out there? Run with the men? So be it, but we do more than just hunting, we're hunted. And them things hunting us, well, they got guns of their own.”  
And here we go, the same kind of speech he has made to me the night of the train heist. He becomes particularly worried when it gets to women becoming outlaws. Does he really care so much?  
“You need anything, Mr. Pearson? Maybe me and Mrs. Adler are gonna take a little ride” he adds to the cook.  
So, they're going to town? I could go with them and check the post office. It's a little too soon, but never say never.  
“Miss, come and help me when you're done with that coffee.”  
I turn around and look at Miss Grimshaw’s back getting away.  
“Miss Grimshaw, I…”“I don’t care, I need you today.”I scoff. Is it possible that she always needs me in the moment I have something to do?  
In the distance, Arthur and Sadie are already preparing a wagon to leave. I run in their direction, still convinced to check my mail, whether I will check it or them, it doesn’t matter.   
“Arthur! Sadie! Can I ask you for a favor?”  
“Sure” says the woman.  
“While you're in Rhodes can you check the mail for me?”  
“What? You and Mr. Pearson took us for mailmen?” jokes Arthur.  
As I give him a dirty look, he sighs.   
“Yeah, of course we will check the mail for you” he says.  
I watch them go away with a strange feeling, just like something is about to happen. Whether this something is positive or negative, I can’t say.  
Miss Grimshaw keeps me busy for a while. Then, I go help Mr Pearson with the stew, so that he won’t be late.   
I’m still with him when Sadie and Arthur come back. As soon as the wagon stops, Mr. Pearson makes me sign to follow him.  
“You didn't get yourself killed then, Mrs. Adler” he jokes approaching them.  
“Not quite.”  
“Well, I'd like to say I missed your refined conversations, but I'd be lying.”I roll my eyes when I exchange a look with Sadie, who smiles and shrugs.   
There is something different with her. Not only she has a new light in there face, a new energy, more positive than the one she had a few hours ago, but now she is wearing trousers too.  
“You look good with those” I say pointing at her legs when she jumps down the wagon and then together we head to the back to unload the boxes with the supplies.  
“You know, I quite enjoyed myself out there” she says.  
“Yes, we err… Mrs. Adler did okay” adds Arthur.  
“At shopping?” Pearson asks sceptic.   
“Yes, at shopping.”From the tone Arthur is using I can perfectly understand these two are hiding something. I look at Sadie asking her silently for an answer, and she winks at me. Maybe she’ll tell me later.  
“Well, thank you, Mr. Morgan” she adds then.   
“Don't mention it. Oh… and we went to the post office, too.”“Still nothing, right?” I ask resigned. I already know I won’t get an answer soon.   
But then, he puts an hand in his satchel and takes out the piece of paper.   
“You shouldn't use your real name when you sent these.”  
My breathing stops. I take the letter from Arthur’s hands and slowly move away.   
The unusually rough paper under my fingertips pushes me to tear it open, but at the same time, the fear of what I can find out keeps me from doing it. What if it doesn’t contain the information I need? What if it contains it?  
After all, it seems that my feeling was right: something important, whether positive or negative, is happening today.

Dear Fred,  
I’m writing this letter for a second time after I sent the first in Valentine, but without an answer.  
I’m glad you are fine, even though I will never be calm in knowing you live side by side with that kind of people.   
I can’t keep it from you anymore. Fred, I found them. They are at Mountain Top Cabin, in New Hannover, not too far from where they have been seen one month ago. No one joined the group, so it’s only the three of them.   
I know what this means. I know what you have to do. So go. Do it. For you. For us. For what we have lost. But please, be careful. Don’t die for them, they already have too much.   
I’ll wait for your answer, and I’ll wait for you to come back home. I’ll be there.  
Yours, Albert.

Mountain Top Cabin, New Hannover. Do it. I’ll wait for you to come home. Oh, Albert, my dear friend, thank you.   
I blink. One, two, three, four times, trying to get clarity back, trying to think. Mountain Top Cabin, New Hannover. Mountain Top… where is this place?  
“Hello, Fred.”  
I raise my eyes from the letter and look at Lenny. As our gazes meet, he stops.  
“Are you alright?” he asks.  
I try to give him the best smile I can fake right now.  
“Sure. Can I ask you something? Do you know where a certain Mountain Top Cabin is? In New Hannover?”He looks disoriented at my question.  
“Do you know who can point me to the right direction?” I ask as I understand he doesn’t know.  
“Of course, uhm, I think Charles can help you. He’s there, near the scout fire.”  
“Thank you, Lenny” I say laying a hand on his shoulder and looking at him right in the eye.  
He frowns at my contact, maybe thinking that for a simple information this thank is way too much, but I can’t push out of my heart the sudden feeling that this may be the last time that I see him, all of them.   
After all, it’s me against three armed men, anything could happen.   
Charles is alone by the fire, smoking a cigarette. I approach him slowly, making him look in my direction and hint a smile.  
My guts twist.   
“Hi, can I ask you something?” I say stopping by his side.  
“Do you know where the Mountain Top Cabin is?” I add without giving him the possibility to answer first.  
“It should be in New Hannover. North-East, under the Roanoke.”  
I open my satchel, put the letter inside and take out the map.   
“Can you show me?” I ask handing it to him.  
His finger brushes against the thick paper of the map.  
“How much time I need to get there?”  
“A couple of hours, maybe more.”  
I nod, my clutched guts are making me feel sick. What would have been if we had more time together? Maybe it is better that nothing truly happened between us? Did I want something to happen?   
I feel my legs shaking as I put the map back. Am I going to die? Am I going to live?  
“Why you have to go there?”  
“It’s just… a job.”  
“Alone? I’ll come with you.”  
“NO!”  
He’s taken aback and I realize that with my behavior I just made him suspicious.  
“It isn’t particularly difficult, it’s just…”  
Oh God, I am a terrible liar. I can’t stay here anymore, I can’t waste any more time, I can’t bear his eyes.  
“Thank you, Charles. For everything.”  
My instinct tells me to do something more. A kiss on the cheek like last time? An embrace? No, I have no time for these things, I have to go.  
I turn my back at him and his inquiring gaze and head to Isabella. Around me, the camp is living a normal day as always. I don’t look at anybody else in the face, I don’t stop to say what is probably a goodbye, sure that they would try to stop me, or that I would try to stop myself, telling me that I don’t need this revenge, that it won’t bring me nothing good but get killed, even though I know that’s not true.

I follow the road Charles showed me, stopping at every crossroad and every fork to check the map and be sure I’m going in the right way.   
There is a part of me that wants to speed up, run and get done with all this shit once and for all, but the other side, the one scared to death, is holding me back. I have no backup, I am alone, me against three men, three criminals, the beasts who killed my family.   
I tighten the reins and spur Isabella. I have my revolver, and my rage. That’s all I need.  
I walk through the boarder, reaching New Hannover and stopping again to look at the map, when I hear some horses behind me. Thinking about some passersby, I move to the edge of the road to make them pass, but instead, they slow down.   
My mind immediately goes to my gun, and I am really about to take it when a familiar voice makes me turn around.  
“You want to tell us what you're doing?” asks Arthur.  
With a sharp sigh, I look at the sky cursing myself and my incapability to lie properly to Charles.   
He is here too. When I don’t answer the two of them come by my side, one on the left, one on the right. I keep digging in my mind to find something to say, a lie, an excuse, but I can't think of anything. My head is full with another type of thoughts.  
I feel the map I’m keeping in front of me taken from my hands and I give a deadly look at Arthur.  
“Hey!” I roar.  
“You won't go anywhere if you don't tell us what you want to do.”  
I keep staring at him defiantly, making him understand I have no intention to tell him shit.  
“Okay, I guess we have to find out then. Charles, you know the way, bring us there.”  
I turn around to look at him and slowly shake my head, but he is insensible to my begging and with a spur he leads the way.  
Why I'm not able to tell them a lie? Anything at all to make them stop. I don’t want them to be there when I’ll do what I’ll do. It must be me, and only me.  
“Stop!”   
They do as I ask making their horses turn to look at me. They win. I can’t escape this, I have to tell them the truth, and perhaps they’ll let me do it.  
“Can we stop? I’ll tell you everything.”  
Not far from the road there is a big tree that casts a large shadow. I lead Isabella there and dismount. The two men follow me and do the same.   
Where do I start from? How can I tell them?  
Twisting my hands together and fixing my eyes on a distant point, I begin with my story.  
“Last year wasn't a good one for my family. Winter had been tough and both the animals and the crops suffered that. We lost cattle, we planted the fields in vain. We had no money and we were desperate.”  
I clear my throat feeling my eyes burn. Telling it is way harder than I thought.  
“My sister and I, we… started working at the city general store, one morning her, one me, and tried to make some money. But it wasn't enough. My father had to ask for a loan, but he couldn't ask the bank because we already had many debts so… so he went to a usurer. McCain was his name.”  
Just pronounce his name makes me feel dirty. With my eyes planted on the ground I push myself to keep going.  
“We didn't collect the money in time. McCain sent his men many times, but we could never pay him back. One day, it was my turn to go to work in the store, so I went to the city with Albert, one of the hands. We didn't notice anything until we came back. They had killed the animals and burned the fields. We run inside the house and…”  
The dream I had the other night suddenly comes back. The face of my father covered in blood, my screams as I saw him, Albert’s hands on my face, trying to calm me.  
My blurred sight makes me blink a couple of times and the tears tickle my cheeks.  
“…we found them dead. All of them. My mother, my father, my sister, Albert’s brother and another boy who helped us.”  
I run a hand through my face and sniff, finally finding the courage to look at them. Their faces tell me anything I need to know. Charles is sad. Arthur is ashamed. He knows he’s done the same thing with Downes.  
“With Albert we… we headed back to the city and looked for McCain. He gave me no satisfaction, he was a coward and immediately gave me the names of the men who killed my family. From that moment, Albert and I keep in touch. He gives me the information and when he would have found them, I could have avenged my family.”  
Silence fells as I wait for them to say something, but they don’t. Now they know, now they can understand why I have to do it, now they won’t try to stop me anymore.  
I do as to walk back to Isabella, but Charles speaks.  
“Wait. You want to kill a bunch of men alone?”  
I stare at him. What part of all the things I said he hasn’t understood?   
“Come on. Charles lead the way” says Arthur walking past me to reach the horses.  
“No, you don’t get it. I won’t come back” I almost yell.  
“Who said we're going back?” 

“Okay, it must be in there. We better leave the horses here. The trees will cover us.”  
I do as Charles says, tying Isabella to a branch.   
Here we are, this is my moment, I’ve been thinking about it for months, I’m ready, I know what to do and how to do it.   
I have no idea why I let them come with me, though. Maybe I thought it was better to have them by my side than against me. After all, I think they have understood what I have to do because, for all the journey, they haven’t tried to talk me out of it.  
Charles walks near Arthur as he takes his rifle from the saddle.  
“You got a plan?” he asks.  
“I'm thinking about something.”  
“I have a plan.”  
They look at me and I stare back, removing my belt with the weapons.   
“You get around the cabin. I'll be bait” I say taking the revolver and putting it on the back of my pants.  
“There should be only three men. You take two of them, I'll take care of the third. Don't kill them” I add looking at them in the eye.   
“Is that clear?”  
With a nod, they tell me what I want to know.  
“Go. When you reach the back of the cabin, I’ll move.”  
I take cover behind a tree and wait for them to do as I asked. I don’t even know why they are taking orders from me, why they are letting me bossing them around without flinching. Because they pity me, maybe? The stupid girl with the revenge desire? They won’t pity me anymore when I’ll be done here.  
I’m here. I’m ready.   
My legs move like I have no control on them and I reach the front of the house without even being aware of it. Arthur and Charles make me a sign with their hands. They are in position.  
My left hand is shaking violently and I close it into a fist, collecting all the strength I have used in these months to keep fighting.   
“Hunt!” I roar towards the door.  
“James Hunt!”  
My voice, that echoes in the stillness of the clearing, sounds foreign to me, like I'm not the one who's saying these words. Calling out his name makes a strange effect.  
The front door opens, but no-one comes out. Inside it is pitch dark and I can't see anything.  
“Who are you? What do you want?”  
The voice that comes from the inside is as hateful as I imagined it.  
“Talk” I reply.  
“I'm alone and I'm not armed” I add when I receive no answer.  
From the dark, the three figures emerge. I put my hands up in the air when I realize one of them is pointing a gun in my direction.   
I feel a million things right now, but not fear.   
"Who are you?” he asks.  
“A girl who wants to talk with Jimmy Hunt. Is that you?”  
“It depends on who's looking for me.”  
“Me.”  
“And who are you?”  
His voice is high-pitched, his pointy nose and hollowed cheeks make him look like a rat, his oily hair attached to the sides of his face are the sign of the filth he’s been leaving in, in the last period.   
The other two have nothing worth noting: one is an asshole with a big round belly and long-till-the-shoulders hair, the other is a skinny asshole with short blonde hair and a nose which is obviously been broken more than once.   
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Arthur and Charles move closer. I have to move.  
“I've already told you that I'm alone and not armed, so there is no need to keep that gun on my face” I say nodding towards the man in the middle, the one I think to be Hunt.  
“Unless you are scared of a girl” I add maliciously.   
Hunt smiles with an arrogant know-it-all expression that makes my blood boil in my veins.   
“We are murderers, nothing scares us” he says going down the three stairs of the porch while the other two remain right where they are.  
“Yes, I know” I murmur.  
Arthur and Charles make their move and I make mine. As they grab the two men from behind pointing their guns at their heads, I take out my revolver and shoot Hunt on his side.  
He yells and kneels on the ground bringing his hands where the blood is starting to spill, drenching his shirt.  
A rush of adrenaline makes me run, and I run close to him to take the gun from his holster and throw it away.   
“Take their pistols” I command to Arthur and Charles.   
“I'll ask you again. Are you James Hunt?”   
“Yes, yes…”   
Alright, this is my moment.  
“So you are the men who murdered the Faraday family at the Faraday Ranch a year ago.”  
He lifts his head to look at me. To my big surprise, there is no fear in his eyes. There is pain, and rage, but no fear.  
“So?” I encourage.  
“Yes, it's us” he growls.  
“Good.”I'm not able to add anything else. I had a speech I prepared thinking about how it would have been, how he would have begged me to spare his life. But now he's here, on the ground, looking at me without a trace of terror, and I don't know what to do.  
It’s like someone else takes control of my body. I lift the revolver and shoot at the man Arthur is keeping as hostage.   
“What the hell… you could have warned me” he complains letting the lifeless body fall.  
I move the gun to the other one.  
“No, NO! Wait, wait…” he starts yelling and squirming in Charles’s arms, who doesn’t let him go.  
I shoot him on his knee. His screeches fill the air and his blood covers the porch.   
“I hope you remember what you have done”I shout over his screams.  
“You bitch! You bitch. Who the fuck are you?” he keeps yelling.  
“I'm the daughter you didn't kill!”  
I realize that the arm that is holding the revolver has slowly gone down, so I raise it again to point at the man’s body.  
“You are a worthless whore. We should have waited for you and… what… NO!”  
I fire again. This time I hit him right on the head.  
“We had orders. It's not us you have to blame.”  
Hunt’s voice is calm, his eyes are cold, he is laying on the ground with a nonchalance unrelated to a man who is about to die. How can he remain impassive? He makes me angrier, he makes me want to kill him as fast as possible.   
“You had to collect the money, not to destroy a family!”  
“Well... it looks like we got a little carried away” he laughs.  
I point the gun to his face, and his expression changes. He becomes serious all at once.  
“Do it” he murmurs.  
His eyes, those eyes the color of the ice, don’t move from me.   
“Right in the head, here. I'll die instantly, but you… you will never have your family back.”  
I gulp. I feel like somebody is throwing rocks at me. Is that the weight of the truth?  
“You want to know how your little sister was screaming while I fucked her?”The grip around the revolver tightens, until my hand starts to hurt.  
“Me and my men after me? Oh, yes, we all had her.”  
A scream rises form my chest, but it stops on my throat, making me choke on my own voice.  
“And your father…”  
Another deep mocking laugh comes from him.  
“He saw everything and only then we killed him. You've seen what was left of his face, haven't you?”  
Again, the face covered in blood, his eyes open full of pain and fear, appears in my mind.  
My hands now are shaking and I can’t keep the gun steady anymore.  
“So, do it. All will end in a second, but you won't have nothing back.”  
He laughs, again and again. He laughs of me, of my pain, my sufferance.  
He has to die.  
No!  
He has to feel what I feel right now: powerlessness.  
The shaking of my hands finishes all at once. I let my arm fall, throw the revolver on the ground and, keeping the eye contact, I whisper “no”.  
He frowns and for a moment I can perfectly see he is confused, but then the smirk returns to his face.  
“You don't even have the nerve to kill a man while you look at him right in the eye” he mocks.  
Unlikely what he saying, I am staring at him, and I don’t move my eyes from him as I walk closer collecting all the hate, the scorn, the torment, the pain that have lead me here.  
Slowly, I kneel down next to him.   
“Greet the devil for me, I'll probably meet him, too” I murmur.   
In a fast and swift movement I grab the knife from his belt and stuck it in his throat. The flesh collapses under the blade and everything gets covered by blood: his neck, the knife, my hand.  
He puts an hand on mine, trying to react, but I straddle him and block his head, keeping to look at those clear irises as a veil covers them.  
With the other hand, he reaches my throat and tries to push me away from my chest and my face, his mouth open, silently yelling for help, but not a sound coming from it except a death rattle. Soon, I understand that he is drowning in his own blood.  
So, that’s it. That’s how it ends. That’s how the man gets to die. After years of life, of crime in this case, he just suffocates as his life slips away.  
His grip around my neck and hand becomes more and more feeble until the veil that makes his eyes cloudy, blinds them completely.   
With the warm blood still running on my hand and a coppery smell in the air, I pull out the knife and stand up trying to go away, far from him and from this place, but my legs fail me and I fall on my knees. I feel tired, like I've run for miles, and I feel sick, like I’ve eaten something rotten, and I feel pain on my skin, like someone is burning me alive.  
I did it. I finally did it. I want to laugh. I want to cry.  
How much time do I spend like this, kneeling down, looking at my bloody hands, I don’t know. All I know is that two hands grab me from under my arms and lift me. I try to stand steadily, but my legs seem made of pudding. Whoever lifted me, gently pushes me towards the wood. I walk, and walk, and walk, but the only thing I want to do right now is sleep.   
Suddenly, I feel something fresh on my cheek, and looking up at Charles I also realize that we are back to the horses.  
“You can't go back to camp like this” he says, but his voice is muffled in my ears.  
“I'm tired. I’m tired” I say.  
“We have to go back.”“No, I’m tired. Just tired.”  
He says something else, but his voice is more and more distant. My vision is blurred, my head is heavy.  
I feel two hands catch me before I hit the ground.


	12. Mourning

The smell of burning wood wakes me. I lay still, slowly opening my eyes to look at the twisting orange flames that warm my face, while all around me is dark and cold. The sun behind the hills is still lighting the horizon, but just a thin line behind the mountains, barely visible from where I am.  
I sit up to rub my eyes, but something sticky on my hands makes me stop immediately. As I realize it is dried blood, I freeze.   
It's done. It is truly done. After all those months, after all that pain, after all those deaths.  
I distract myself from my hands and look around, trying to understand where am I. I can’t see the cabin, nor the woods, but I reckon I’m still in New Hannover. Then, I become aware that on the ground next to me there is another bedroll.   
Who is with me? Arthur, or Charles. Probably Arthur. But I don’t see his horse anywhere. Now that I think about it, I don’t see Isabella either.  
“Welcome back.”  
Charles’s voice catches me unprepared. I truly didn’t expect him to be here. Generally, it is always Arthur who stays with me, maybe because it isn’t wise for a colored man and a white woman to be seen alone together in the night.   
As I look at his tall figure walking towards the fire I also notice he’s carrying a rabbit.   
“You need to eat something” he says readily.   
I nod in silence even though I know I won’t be able to put much food in me.   
He sits down and starts skinning and cleaning the animal. I stare at him for a while. He and Arthur brought me all the way here, and then Arthur ordered him to stay with me, or maybe Charles volunteered. Just the thought of it…  
“Where’s Arthur?”  
“Back to camp. Dutch gave him some work he has to do tomorrow.”  
I nod again. So, he didn’t want to stay here, he is forced to.  
“You've got, uhm, something I can clean myself with?” I ask showing him my hands.   
“Sure.”  
He reaches for a bag near the fire from where he takes a rug and a skin of water. I start with my hands and I must say, wash the blood away is something really difficult.  
“You still have some of your face” says Charles.  
On my face? How did it end up there? Maybe in the struggle with Hunt, when he touched me?  
I start rubbing blindly my face, but apparently I’m not doing it right because after a few seconds Charles stands up to come next to me.  
“Wait” he says taking the rug from my hands.   
Slowly and with a gentle touch I would never expect from those big hands, he passes the wet cloth on my face. After a glance, I move my eyes away, looking everywhere but at his face, so close to mine.   
When he’s done, he goes down on my neck, moving my hair gently away and causing me a shiver.  
“Stop, stop, I’ll do it” I say taking the rug from his hands and moving away.  
I still don’t look at him, but I can perfectly sense his bewilderment when I moved so roughly away.  
He brought you here, he's feeding you, he wants to help you and after all this you treat him this way? Doesn’t it sound a little too ungrateful?  
“Thank you” I add in a whisper.  
We eat without a word and then we settle down for the night. Charles turns his back to the fire so I don't understand if he falls asleep or not, but I can't. I feel tired, but I can’s close my eyes. It’s like a curse.  
I watch the flames slowly going out until I remain in the complete darkness. Only the moonlight draws the contours of the fields around us.  
Unable to lie down on the hard ground for one more second, I get up, trying not to wake Charles, and I head to the top of the hill we camped on.  
I sit right there, looking at the valley beneath me and letting the fresh air caress me skin.  
It is done. And now?  
For months all I could think about was the moment I would have finally spoken with the murderers of my family and in the end nothing went as I planned. I didn't say what I wanted to say, I didn't do what I wanted to do, all ended faster than I expected and I don't feel the fulfillment I wanted to feel. All I can sense now is a void. Uselessness.  
Moreover, I’ve never planned what I would do after killing them, so now I have no true plans for my future. I have nothing. Albert asked me to go back home, but I know I can’t. I won’t be able to leave in that same place where I’ve seen them die.  
Warm tears start to run down my cheeks. I don't even know why I'm crying. Finally it has ended. But, has it really ended? It doesn’t feel like it.  
At the beginning I try to hold my tears back, but then I let everything go. I feel a weight on my chest and I want to yell, scream until I lose my voice.  
Suddenly, I feel ha hand on my shoulder and then Charles sits next to me. I want to yell at him, tell him to go away, to leave me alone, but then he puts his arm around my shoulders and pushes me against his chest.

A bustle wakes me and I open my eyes to look at Charles picking up his things.   
Last night, after we spent I don't know how much time on the hill, I must have fallen asleep and he must have carried me back.   
I sit up and we exchange a look.   
“How are you?” he asks.  
“Fine.”  
“You sure?”  
“Yeah.”  
He doesn’t believe me, I can tell he doesn’t, but I don’t feel in the mood for talking. My eyes are puffy, my throat is dry and there is a weight on my chest pushing me back to sleep. If we didn’t have to ride back to camp, I would lie down for a couple of hours more.  
I make the big effort to get up and put my bedroll on the saddle before mounting on Isabella and following Charles.   
We pass through rivers and hills until the ground under us turns red, the sign that we have reached the South again. I don’t really pay attention to the route. I feel like underwater, the landscape around me moves in front of my eyes like behind a gigantic glass.  
When we reach camp, Charles dismounts first and waits for me to do the same. He stays there, I think hoping to exchange a few words, but I don’t give him the chance.  
Turning around without a single look at him nor at everybody else, I walk to my tent and close myself inside.

“Fred, you should eat something.”  
When Sadie’s voice reaches my ears, I open my eyes and realize it’s dark outside. I haven’t put a foot outside for the entire day, laying still and falling asleep every now and then, but waking up with visions of fire and blood in my head.  
All I want is to be alone. I’m not hungry, I’m not thirsty, I don’t feel anything. I’m gust tired. I want to sleep.  
Through the tent I see her shadow going away and I close my eyes again.

When I open them again, it is still dark outside, dark and silent. I’ve never heard the camp so silent and it doesn’t give me the feeling of something peaceful. On the contrary all this still nothingness makes me restless.  
Slowly, I get up and walk outside. My bare feet touch the dry grass, but all in all it isn’t such a bad sensation.   
I look around, helped by that little light the moon sheds on the tents. It is a beautiful full moon, bigger that every other moon I’ve ever seen.   
Attracted like a moth with the light of a lantern, I walk towards the lake, where it reflects on the lake. I bury my feet in the rough sand and keep walking, reaching the little dock.   
I barely hear the creaking of the planks when I walk on them, getting to the end of the pier and looking down. The black water, so dark that I’m able to mirror myself on it, doesn’t allow me to see the bottom of the lake.   
An idea slips in my mind. What if I throw myself in it? Reach the depth and simply stay there, surrounded by nothing but water? Would it be such a bad idea? To me it doesn’t sound so bad. I’ll be alone, with my thoughts and my conscience, no-one will ever find me, no-one will ever bother me again.  
I slowly let myself go and sit on the edge. The water brushes against the tips of my feet. It is colder than I thought and a shiver runs down my back.   
Then, I feel it again, that void on my chest, and new tears fill my eyes. I let it go. Again and again, I cry and dry my tears, then cry, then stop again, until my eyes feel empty and all emotions disappear, just in time for the sun to come up.   
From the camp behind me people start to get up. I listen to their good mornings, their footsteps, and I can almost feel their eyes burning on my back, but I don’t care. I don’t care if they see me, I don't care if they come and talk to me, I don't care if they worry about me.   
Just as I expected, the dock shakes and creaks.   
“I saw your tent open and I was wandering where was you.”  
I don’t need to turn around to understand who it is. There aren’t many people here who would come and talk to me after what happened.  
“You know, you should eat something” says Hosea sitting next to me.  
I keep staring at the lake, pretending not to have seen him. Maybe he will understand and leave me alone.  
“I went through it too, you know? When I lost my wife.”  
I feel the muscles of my back tense up.   
“Well, she wasn't exactly my wife but… we spent the life together and…”  
“Was she raped and slaughtered?” I ask glancing at him coldly.  
He is taken aback by my words.   
“N-no but…”  
“It's not the same then.”  
I look again at the lake. The best think to do is go back to my tent. There I can ignore them all and their pathetic attempts to make me feel better.  
“What I mean is that you have to react, go on with your life.”.  
“Why? To what purpose? I did what I had to do. Now there's nothing worth living for.”  
“So your plan is to starve? I'm sorry but it won't happen. There are people here who care about you. More than you know.”  
After he says these last words, with a vehemence not adequate to his character, he stands up and walks away.   
I don't care about what he says. There can be hundreds of people who care about me, but I lost the only thing I cared about and this makes my life worthless.  
The sun now is up and bright on the lake and both the light and the heat are definitely starting to annoy me. It is time to go back in my tent.  
I walk right in front of Dutch’s tent, but he isn’t there, something I’m glad for. I don’t think I could have handled his lecture too. Not after Hosea.  
I also walk past the kitchen where Abigail and Sadie are taking their coffee.   
“Hi Fred! You want some coffee? Something to eat?” asks the former.   
I ignore her, as I ignore all the stares the others are giving me. I even ignore Micah, with his everlasting mocking smile, seated under the big tree.  
“There she is! The camp star! They're saying you're pretty good with your knife, but excellent with your gun. I’ve seen it, by the way. All white and shiny, with the eagle on the side. Maybe one day you'll show me what you can do.”  
With his laughing in my ears, I get to my tent and close it tight behind me. Lying down, I take a deep sigh. This place looks more and more like a cage.   
“So your plan it to starve? I'm sorry but it won't happen.”  
Hosea’s words echo in my head. I will never be free here, with all their rules, their hierarchy, their blind obedience. If I want to stay on my own, if I want to do what I want, I have to leave. After all, what binds me to them? Nothing. Nothing at all. But I can’t leave now, or the’ll see me and try to stop me. I have to wait nightfall and sneak out. Better to start packing then.  
I take my sack from one of the corners of the tent and start filling it: clothes, hat, blanket, ammunitions… I wear my boots and take the belt with the weapons. My knife is still there and my gun…  
Where's my gun?  
The ground around me is completely empty, I check the sack to be sure I haven’t accidentally put it inside, but I can’t find it.   
Did I forget it at Mountain Top Cabin? No, it can't be. Please, it can't be. Maybe it's on Isabella.  
I burst the curtains open and run to the horses with a new energy I didn't thought to have. With shaking hands, I check the saddle-sacks, both of them, but there’s nothing there.   
The air sharply goes in and out from my lungs.  
How could I lose it? It isn’t possible. I had it with me, I had it on my belt and then I took it and…   
I lose all my strength and my legs melt, so that I have to grab to Isabella not to fall down. My eyes burn and I have to close them tight to focus.  
I put it on the back of my trousers, shot the two men and then…  
My father’s revolver, I lost it, I can’t believe I lost it. With that beautiful engraved pearly white stock he got from that…  
“All white and shiny. With the eagle on the side.”  
How does Micah know how my revolver is done? Only who grabs it can see the eagle on the side.  
Relief mixes with rage and creates a feeling I can't understand. If what I think is true, I didn’t lose it, Micah took it. And just thinking about that filthy snake with my father's gun…  
“I never new you were quite so good at running away Arthur.”  
I raise my eyes to look at Dutch.  
“Well, I never knew age had slowed you down quite so much” answers Arthur.  
The both of them are coming back from I don’t know where, smiling, and they make their horses stop as soon as they see me.  
“Look who's come out of the den!” exclaims Dutch dismounting.  
“What brought you back to us?”  
I look at the camp and point at Micah. He’s still seated under the tree, dangling on that stupid chair, with that stupid smirk on his face.  
I walk the distance between us with fast and wide steps, reaching out a hand meaningfully as soon as I get to him. I don’t say anything, and there is no need for that, the look he gives me makes me understand he took it, he did it on purpose.  
“What?” he asks vaguely. He’s so childish.  
“The gun” I say plainly.  
“What gun? Ohhh, your gun? The gun you take care of like a child? I don't know where it is. It's your gun, after all, not mine” he giggles.  
With my eyes still fixed in his, I let my arm fall on my side and a scoff escapes my lips.   
Okay, if he wants to do it this way...  
I close my fist and hit him right on the nose, not too strong, but neither too weak. As he screams and brings a hand to his face, I take advantage of his distraction to search his belt. If he took my gun, it must be there. But before I’m able to find it, he stands and pushes me away.  
“Give it to me!” I yell.  
“You'll pay for this!” he yells back grabbing one of my arms.  
With the free one I’m ready to hit him again, but two hands surround my waist and pull me away before I can do it.  
“Now, stop this madness!” exclaims Dutch showing up from my side and pushing Micah away, and I realize the one who’s restraining me is Arthur.  
“Give me my gun! Now!” I scream, trying to free myself, but the more I fidget the stronger Arthur squeezes me, and soon I feel to be out of breath.   
“STOP IT!” he roars in my ear and I’m forced to do as he asks.  
“Micah, give her that goddamn gun” orders Dutch.  
He looks at him and then at me. He doesn’t want to do it, but he can’t disobey Dutch’s orders. From under his jacket he takes the revolver and throws it on the ground at my feet. Arthur lets me go and I pick it up.  
“You better thank Arthur and Dutch are here or you'd be dead already” I say under my breath before turning my back at him.   
“You should…” he starts, but Dutch stops him immediately.   
It is in the short walk towards my tent that I make up my mind. I don’t want to stay here any longer.  
I place my father’s revolver in its holster and get inside my tent to take the sack with my things. Then, I reach the horses and load it on Isabella.   
"You're going somewhere?” I hear Dutch’s voice ask.  
“Away from here” I reply giving my back at him.  
“Where do you think you are? Huh? In a hotel where you can go in and out when it pleases you? You can't simply run away.”  
Here we are, the lecture I hoped not to receive. I don’t answer and keep setting the saddle, ready to leave for good.  
I hear some footsteps and then Dutch’s hands on me,. He forces me to turn around and meet his eyes. He seems… angry, in a way I’ve never seen him.  
“You think you're the only one who lost someone dear?” He murmurs with a heavy breathing, just like he’s holding his rage back.   
Even though his voice causes me the goosebumps, I frown and show him I’m not afraid.   
“Here everyone lost someone, everyone had a difficult life, but we don't run away from problems, we face them. Now, you're part of this group and you have the responsibility to live and fight for these people.”  
His grip on my arms tightens and begins to hurt, but I say nothing.  
“So get to work and stop behaving like a child.”  
“Colm O'Driscoll killed her, didn't he?”  
The words slip out of my mouth without being able to restrain them, and I regret that immediately because what I see really scares me.   
Dutch pulls me closer with a furious light in his eyes. I almost think he’s about to strangle me, or hit me. He deeps his nails in my skin so much that it feels like he’s treating my flesh apart.   
“If you think you know how things are, you're wrong” he whispers. Then, like nothing has happened, he roughly lets me go and turns around to walk away from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Maybe a little explanation is due, because some people told me they didn't quite understand her reaction in this chapter.  
> When I wrote this I thought: she experienced a great pain and when a human being experiences something like this he/she thinks no-one can ever understand what it means, and this explains her reaction to Hosea.  
> Then I thought: she never truly processed the loss of her family, she's doing it now, after the revenge, because now she knows that chapter of her life is closed, and this explains the rage at the beginning and her pushing away everybody at camp, even Charles.  
> If you have other questions, please ask, I'm here for you.  
> For everything else, have a good Easter, a good quarantine, a good day and see you soon!  
> Kudos ;)


	13. All Over Again

Seated near the campfire, watching the flames, with a plate of stew in my hands, I can’t stop thinking about what Dutch told me, his words, my words, his reaction. I've never seen him treat someone in this way, until now. He surely has charisma, the attitude of a leader, but this roughness, this anger, this rage, they are all new to me.   
It’s Kieran who distracts me, sitting by my side with his usual sweet and polite smile.  
“I'm happy you chose to stay. I would have missed you.”  
I smile, but say nothing. It wasn’t truly a choice.  
“I've just come to ask you if you want to help me with the horses. Maybe some work could… distract you.”  
I nod and follow him. 

For dinner I approach the supplies cart looking for something I could like to eat, but Mr. Pearson puts a hand on my shoulder and leads me away.  
“Miss Faraday, how are you?”  
“Better, Mr. Pearson, thank you” I reply frowning at his strange behavior.  
“Here, take some of this” he says filling a plate with some stew.  
“But... I thought we weren't allowed to take it more than once at day.”  
“Yeah well, I think we can make an exception. You have to regain strength.”I smile at him and he smiles back.   
“You are definitely underestimated, Mr. Pearson, you know that?”  
“Oh well, if you say so” he chuckles.  
I take the plate he's handing me and walk to the closer campfire. There, I find a bunch of people that immediately stop talking when they see me.   
I feel the eyes of Arthur, Uncle, Charles, Lenny and Javier on me while I take a seat. An awkward silence fells among us. I put a spoonful of stew in my mouth, trying not to care.  
“You know, I would have liked if you kicked Micah's ass. It's a pity Arthur stopped you” says Lenny out of nowhere.  
I raise my eyes on him and catch his knowing smile.   
“Ahh... I know I shouldn't have” says Arthur. He is smiling too.  
“It would have been a real show” adds Javier.  
“Something I would like to see: Micah beaten by a girl. No offense” laughs Uncle.  
Despite all, they make me smile. I turn my head and look at Charles, the only one who said nothing. He looks at me for a while and then lowers his gaze.  
I do the same as some uneasiness takes me. Maybe he doesn’t approve my behavior, maybe he thinks I’ve been stupid. He was the one who told me to be careful with Micah after all.  
We are interrupted by Sean who comes to sit with us.  
“Good to see you, Fred!” he says.  
I smile. I’m pretty sure he will come out with something incredibly dumb or embarrassing.  
“I have to tell you, you’ve made a great work with those men. Arthur told us…ouch!”  
And… here we go. Of course I knew Arthur would tell everybody about my encounter with Hunt, at least all those who asked, and the voice would spread in the blink of an eye.   
As the eyes of all the people around the fire fix on me again, I sigh and force a smile.  
“Go on Sean, please.”  
“I-I just wanted to say… they deserved that.”  
“Yeah, sure” I murmur standing up to go away.

“Oh. Good Morning.”  
Both Abigail and Sadie seem a little shocked in seeing me this morning, standing here by the kitchen and sipping my coffee.   
“What?” I ask.  
“Nothing, just… you… you are back” says Abigail surprised.   
“I was never gone” I joke.  
“You know what I mean” she replies serious.  
“Yeah, I…”“Miss Faraday when you're done with that coffee I need your help. You rested enough in these days” Miss Grimshaw interrupts us.  
Rested? I rested in these days?  
“You know, Miss Grimshaw, some understanding won't kill you” I say harshly.  
She stops and turns around in bewilderment when she catches my words.  
“Yeah, you heard just fine. I'm the one who worked the hardest since I'm here and I've never heard a 'thank you' or a 'please' come out of your mouth.”  
With every word I say her eyes widen more and more, but she doesn’t say anything.  
“Now I had a difficult moment, and I needed some time, and you must grant it to me, because I deserved it.”  
I don’t wait for an answer. Turning on my place under the shocked eyes of everybody, I walk away, satisfied with my answer. Since I'm here, I've always done what they asked me, but if they think I can be treated like this, they're wrong.  
After I finish my coffee, I go looking for Miss Grimshaw, who miraculously uses the word 'please' in her sentence as she asks me to do something.  
Going back to work actually helps me to distract myself and makes the time pass faster, so before I'm aware of it, it's lunch time.  
Heading to the kitchen, I hear a voice call my name and I look around to understand who it is. It takes me a while to realize the voice belongs to Miss O’Shea, seated on the grass under the shadow of the big tree.  
“Good Morning, Molly.”  
“How are you, dear?”  
Another one who knows. At this point my answer is, who doesn’t?  
“Better, thank you. And how are you?”  
“Well enough. Have you… have you seen Arthur?”  
“I… well no, but I can tell him you’re looking for him if we meet. Are you sure everything is okay?”  
“Yes, it's just… Oh! Arthur, Arthur can I have a quick word?”  
She stretches up an arm to call for the man who now approaches us.  
“Well, Molly… happy to help” I say going away.  
There is definitely something wrong here. She seems troubled, and since when she wants to speak with Arthur? Anyway, none of my business.  
I get to the kitchen and take a can and a spoon.   
What could she possibly want from Arthur? They never talked. Never. She’s no Abigail who complains about John with him almost everyday. She’s no Mary-Beth, almost a confidant for him. She’s not me, talking about robberies or plans of every kind. So, what do they talk about?  
I turn around to look at them from the distance, but I soon realize he’s not talking with Miss O’Shea anymore. Now in her place there’s Uncle.  
I daw closer, more curious than a monkey to understand what is going on, and as I walk towards them, Uncle calls out for Charles and Bill, walking right in front of him.  
“Hey, I'll do it as long as you ride with us” says Arthur.  
Ride? To go where?  
"I got a serious medical condition” replies Uncle.  
I roll my eyes and let a giggle slip.  
“Yes, you are a compulsive liar” laughs Arthur.  
“No need to be like that. Charles, have I ever lied to you?”  
Charles looks at him perplexed.  
“I hardly know you” he answers.  
Uncle opens his arms in a desperate gesture and turning around he sees me, standing here looking at them, amazed by the whole scene.  
“Oh... Miss! Tell me, do I look like a liar to you?” he asks walking closer and putting a hand on my shoulder.   
“You're sure you want me to answer?”  
“Come on! You boys should do this, it's easy! And I'll only take a small commission for the information. But it's now or never” he says to the others.  
“Then it’s never” says Arthur turning around ready to go away.  
Are they trying to convince Uncle to go working? They will never succeed.  
“Oh, God help me… Fine, I'll do it” Uncle gives up.  
I move my eyes from him to Arthur and then to Bill and Charles, exchanging with them a shocked look. I can't believe he's really going to work.  
“Well, what is it?” asks Arthur.  
“It's a supply wagon carrying payroll, but very briefly guarded apparently…” explains Uncle heading to the horses.   
All the others follow him. All except me and Charles who simply look at them going away.  
“You want to come?” he asks with a nod.  
“And miss watching Uncle on a horse? Never” I joke and leave the can on a table nearby.  
“It could be a terrible view” he says as I join him.  
I laugh. He made a joke? Charles just made a joke? I must have bumped my head and don’t remember it because too many strange things are happening today.

We don’t ride for a long time. We barely pass the wood outside camp and the first crossroad on the path to Valentine when Uncle makes us all stop. The five of us raise our bandanas on our faces and wait for the wagon to come.  
“They'll be passing through the crossroad up ahead” Uncle informs us.  
“When?” ask Bill with impatience.  
“Soon, Williamson. Chrissakes. It should be due any time now.”  
“Let's keep this quiet and clear. Nobody needs to die here” adds Charles, the voice of our consciences, always.  
While we wait, a hot wind blows and under my hat I start to sweat. I hate the south.   
“I don’t understand why you’re here.”  
I give Arthur the most annoyed look I can take.  
“Well, Charles invited me.”  
“And you're sure you want to do this?”  
“Why not?”  
“I don't know, you tell me. After what happened in these days…”  
“It has happened. Water under the bridge. And this is work, it’s different.”  
“Hey, that’s should be the wagon, let’s go” says Uncle pointing to a cart with two people driving it.  
We approach it silently and calmly. Uncle was right, they have no protection. Easy as cake.  
“Stop the wagon!” yells Bill, but they pretend not to have listened to him and keep going.  
“I said, stop the damn wagon” he repeats and this time he shows them the gun.   
They do as they are asked.   
"Now, don't try anything stupid and we won't do anything unkind” Bill threatens them as the rest of us surround them.  
They raise their hands in the air and look at each and everyone of us with the eyes of people who are afraid to die, but nonetheless, one of them finds the courage to speak.   
“You know, boys...I...I don't want to get shot, but this is a mistake. I work for 'Cornwall Kerosene & Tar’... Mr. Leviticus Cornwall” he stutters.   
“Oh…great” I hear Arthur sigh on my left.  
“So you know him?” asks the man.  
“Who doesn’t?” says Charles ironically.  
“I hear he's rich enough to share the wealth around and not miss it too much” adds Bill.  
“Oh, he'll miss it” replies the man, maybe hoping that we will leave them alone.  
Yes, that would be the wise thing to do: let them go. We don’t want to alert the law and even less Cornwall’s men. It would start all over again. And anyway, after all the robberies he suffered, he sends payrolls without at least one armed man as escort? I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.  
As Arthur and Charles check the back of the wagon, looking for the money, I make Isabella turn around to observe the fields around us.  
It doesn't sound right. If I were Cornwall I would take some precautions. I would put at least ten man to protect all of my wagons, and trains, and ships. Everything.  
“Okay, we're looking good. Must be nearly a thousand here” I hear Arthur saying when… what I feared, happens.   
There is another wagon with at least five men on it, more three men at horseback, coming in our direction.   
“Shit! We have a problem!” I yell.  
“Let’s go!”  
I spur Isabella, again and again, running faster and faster with my head low, as the men behind us start shooting. “Quick! Get off the trail, into the woods” says Uncle.  
We run through the trees, avoiding branches and bushes. I have the instinct to look back and check if they are still following us, but the fear to smash against a tree is strong enough to stop me from doing it.  
“Let's shake them and get back to camp” says Bill.  
“No, we need a place to lie low. We can't risk leading Cornwall's men to camp” replies Arthur.  
Easy done, as soon as we get out of the woods, our hiding opportunity appears. It’s an abandoned ranch with an abandoned barn.   
We all dismount our horses, and then, just like the others, I sent my Isabella away.   
“Go, go into the woods” I say with a little pat on her back.  
“Okay, we’ll stay until dark and then we'll sneak outta here. Charles you keep watch for now” orders Arthur as we are all inside the barn.  
“Sure.”  
“While we uh… get some rest.”  
They all choose a corner and sit down, while Charles finds the better spot to look towards the field. I take a seat too, and then silence falls.   
I pull down the bandana and take off my hat, drying the sweat from my forehead.  
The barn is quite derelict and I wonder how it can still stand in this condition. It gives me the impression that if a too strong wind blows, it could fly away just like the hose in the book The Wizard of Oz.  
We all keep our ears well open for a while, but the only thing we are able to hear it’s the singing of the birds.   
With a deep breath, I take out my revolver and start cleaning and recharging it. Maybe it’s not over yet and I need it to be ready.  
“It was your father’s?” asks Uncle out of nowhere and when I look up I notice he’s staring at me.  
I nod and smile.  
“He taught you how to use it?”  
“No, not really. My father was a good men, he never used it. I reckon he wasn't even able” I add with a chuckle.   
Silence falls in the peaceful barn, and I keep rubbing the rug on my gun until the sun starts to get down and the shadows lengthen.   
While Arthur, Uncle and Bill have already dozed off, I find the ground a little too hard for my taste and both my back and my ass are hurting, so I decide to stand up and reach Charles.  
There is a beautiful sunset today and the place he has chosen is perfect to admire it. The infinite field of grass is lighted by the orange light which creates an idyllic sight.   
I sit opposite to him and we exchange a quick look.   
“Go to rest, I'll take the watch” I say.  
“Don't worry. You should sleep a little.”  
“I'm not tired.”  
He pretends not to have listened to me and stays exactly where he is. I shake my head and look again at the incredible landscape.  
“I'm serious, you should rest. We don't know for how much time we'll stay here” he repeats.  
“Oh stop it” I whisper.  
“What?”  
“Talk to me like I'm a child. You, Arthur… everyone treats me like I'm not able to take care of myself.”  
“That's not true. We just care about you.”  
I feel like I received a punch in my stomach. Not a bad punch, one of those that hurt, a good punch, one of those that make your heart beat frantically.   
He looks at me for a while and then again at the field, but I’m not able to move my eyes from him. I stare at his sweet traits, that curious scar, his big shoulders, his arms, and finally his hands, hardened by years and years of hard work, but still gentle when they touched me.  
Without being able to restrain myself, I reach out a hand and take his. His skin is surprisingly soft.   
When I realize what I’ve done, I look up and meet his eyes, and with a twist of my guts I try to take my hand back, but this time he doesn’t let me go.   
His grip is strong, but just like imagined he doesn’t hurt me, and his hand is so big that mine almost disappears. It’s a marvelous feeling.   
“Hey, lovebirds.”I jump and drag my hand back, turning around to look at Bill.   
“Can you save your sweet talking for another time? Someone wants to sleep here.”  
He’s not looking, with his hat still on his eyes, but somehow he must have understood what was going on. At his words, Arthur, seated across the barn, chuckles.  
I feel my cheeks burning for the embarrassment and I stand up without being able to look at Charles, and go silently back to my place to wait for the night.

“Alright, let's try and get out of here.”  
It’s Arthur’s voice that wakes me and I am forced to blink a couple of times to get used to the darkness around me. The sun is gone, making place for the bright moon.   
I stand and rub my numb legs. Uncle walks near Bill and gives him a pat on the shoulder.  
“Shit!” he jumps.  
“Absolutely” jokes Uncle making me smile.  
“Shut up, old man” Arthur scolds him.  
“Look, I was just trying…”  
“Shut up.”  
We all turn towards Charles, who pronounced the words with such a vehemence to make me ask myself what happened.  
“There's a light over by the house” he warns us and the atmosphere suddenly changes.  
“Damn. L-let's just… keep this calm. See what happens” says Arthur.  
He makes sign to all of us to hide. I look around to find a place, but Charles takes me from my arm and drags me back one of the wooden walls. Then, he brings a finger to his lips and tells me to be quiet.  
For a moment I truly believed to be out of danger. We had almost done it. Almost.  
Between the planks I see an opening and I get on my knees to peer through it. There are three or four people with lanterns talking with a man inside the house.   
I thought it to be abandoned. Why is someone still there?   
“Why don't you just tell me, partner, what you heard.”  
“I don’t... maybe I heard some noises out by the barn a while ago? Ain't me.”  
“Better not be… All right. Cooperforth, Lowe, go check out the barn.”Two of the men come towards us and I turn around to look at Charles, worried to death that they might find us. He just nods to me reassuringly, and his calm behavior has a soothing effect on my nerves. They won't notice us if we don't move.  
The lights that come from the lanterns get closer and closer and start making funny shadows on the ground under us. Charles sticks out a little and makes a sign to someone, maybe Arthur, not to move.  
“Well the place looks deserted enough.”  
“Sure.”  
“You head inside, I'll go round the back.”  
I squeeze myself against the wood as one of the lights stops at the entrance.  
“Place looks empty to me” shouts the man and I jump and tighten my eyes.   
Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet and he will go away.  
It takes a while for him to be convinced that there is truly no-one inside, but when I finally hear his footsteps go away, I breathe again, unaware that I was holding it. But my hopes are in vain. A sudden metal sound, like something thrown onto the ground, makes me yelp and jerk around.  
“SHIT!” yells Bill.  
“I found them!”  
I don’t know how it happens, but we all take position to start shooting against the tens of men who now showed up from the woods and the fields.   
“Well done Bill, you're an idiot!” I hear Arthur shouting among the shots.  
“Of course, every time something happens…”  
“It's not the moment for that. We need to go, the barn caught fire” says Charles.  
I turn around and notice the flames I didn't see before. How is that possible? Where does it come from?  
“Come on, this way” says Uncle passing through some broken planks.   
I’m still looking at the fire, wondering how is that possible that the barn caught fire from nothing, when Charles grabs my arm and pulls me towards the opening in the wall. He comes out right after me. Then, Arthur as last one.  
We run towards the forest where we sent the horses, with our heads low and turning around to fire at some movement among the branches every now and then.   
“We all still alive?” asks Arthur as soon as we get to the horses.  
“Just about” answers Bill.  
“Yeah, I'll deal with you later” Arthur says to Uncle ponting a menacing finger to his face.  
“We got some money, didn't we?”  
“Sure, but now we got Cornwall on our backs again.”“It was an honest mistake.”“Leave it, every man split up. Go on, run, quick. Not you. You're with me” he adds pointing at me.  
I open my mouth to object, but I give up immediately. Charles is looking at me and I don’t want to be the spoiled and whining little girl who always complains about everything.   
“The camp is not far so we'll get back. If we stay here there's the risk to be found” says Arthur mounting on his horse.  
“Okay” I reply doing the same.  
I obediently follow him out of the wood and then on the path. If I turn around I can still see the distant flames of the barn, but no trace of other men around. Hopefully, they’ve just given up.   
“Damn me and when I listened to that old fool. He put ourselves into trouble. And Bill... if he could keep his feet still, now we wouldn't be here. It would have been much better if it was only me, you and Charles” inveighs Arthur.  
His words surprise me. Charles, him and I? So now he doesn’t believe anymore that I’m a useless burden?   
Then, he laughs and I frown at him.  
“Or maybe it would have been much better if it was just Charles and you, so you two had all the privacy you needed.”  
I move my eyes away with a lump in my throat that doesn’t allow me to say anything. I simply stare at the road ahead, thanking the darkness that hides my burning cheeks as Arthur’s giggles echo in my ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I want to start saying I'm close to each and everyone of you in this difficult moment, especially those who come from the US. In these days I'm hearing terrible things from the news and I truly hope everything is fine for you, wherever you come from.  
> Talking about the chapter: we all know Arthur and his "finesse" when it comes to talk about feelings, not to mention Bill, and I thought it would be fun to use it here.  
> Can I spend a few words to say how much I love Pearson?  
> Okay, done, thank you for the patience.  
> Again, I wish you luck for everything. Stay home, stay safe.  
> See you soon!


	14. Theatrical Performance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> It's a new day, a new week, a new chapter!  
> There's truly nothing to say about this one, so I just hope you like it.  
> I'm starting to write something new, it's a little different and probably stupid, but... I think I'll publish it, after this one of course, and it's also on RDR2.  
> Okay, I leave you to it.  
> See you soon!

“Good morning Abigail, Sadie” I say to the two women.  
“Morning. How are you?” asks Abigail, but from her eyes I can see she’s worried about something.  
“Fine…”  
“Yesterday I looked for you, but I couldn't find you.”  
“I was working. Why? What happened?” I ask concerned and her face relaxes a little.  
“Oh, no, nothing. Just… Hosea needed someone for a job and I thought about you. John had to go with him, but Dutch asked him to do something else.”  
“Oh...well I'll go look for Hosea then. See what this is about.”  
She nods and I would like to ask more about the reason for her worry, but if she doesn’t want to talk to me about it, I shouldn’t insist.  
A job with Hosea. That could be interesting. I’ve never worked with him and if he is half the genius Arthur says him to be, today is going to be a day full of fun.  
With great expectancies, I wander around looking for him. I don’t have to go too far, he is seated at the table under the big tree. He is always there when he reads.  
“I heard you need someone for a certain job. Are you interested in my help?” I say getting closer.  
“I don't know. Are you good at selling?” he asks without moving his eyes from the book.  
“Erm... I'm not exactly a business woman, but I can persuade them” I joke making him smile.  
“I'll think about it then. In the mean time, why don't you meet me in the woods this afternoon. There's a wagon hidden there.”  
I nod, even though not everything is perfectly clear to me. Hidden in the woods? Selling? What kind of job is this?  
I keep busy helping Miss Grimshaw with some little job around camp before wearing hat and belt and enter the wood, looking for the mysterious wagon.  
“Hey, this way” someone calls.  
Hosea is waving a hand in my direction, next to him, John is seated on the wagon.  
“I thought you had work to do” I say reaching them.  
“I wanted to know who Hosea asked to take my place. Now I understand he considers me at the same level of a girl” he replies, and I’m not sure if he is joking or not.  
“Or maybe I make no distinction between men and women” says Hosea reproachfully.  
I smile amused at their exchange when some footsteps behind me make me turn around.  
“Hey, what are you doing?” asks Arthur.  
“Selling it back to where it came from” says Hosea pointing at the wagon and just now I notice what it contains: at least a dozen of jugs and a couple of cases full of bottles. The liquid inside, though, it’s a mystery for me.  
“Why?” asks Arthur again.  
“Well I ain't got a market for it. They made it, they must have someone to sell it to. Stuff looked kinda lonely out here. I think we'll cut ourselves a deal.”  
Meanwhile, John jumps down and loads the last couple of jugs.  
“You and Dutch was just doing you duty when you requisitioned it. Now I'm doing mine” Hosea keeps saying heading to the driver place.  
“Is she coming too?” asks Arthur pointing at me.  
“She could be helpful” replies Hosea making me sign to jump on.  
As soon as John closes the back, securing the precious unknown liquid, I sit on the edge with my legs dangling out.  
“Alright, I should get going now. I'll leave you fellers to it. Good luck” he says as the wagon starts moving.  
“Thank you, John. We'll see you later” says Hosea and I wave goodbye.  
“Dutch asked him to look into something. To do with the Braithwaite horses, I think. Okay, let's head out to the Braithwaites' place. You know the way?” asks Hosea.  
“Yeah, I been there” answers Arthur.  
“Who are these Braithwaites?”  
I can’t keep quiet anymore. All this talking about selling this thing, that I have no idea what it is, to these Braithwaites, who I have no idea who they are, is driving me crazy. If I have to work with them, I need to know.  
“One of the most powerful families in the area. It's them we'll sell the Moonshine” explains Hosea.  
“You mean these bottles?”  
“Yes. It's a very strong, illegal liquor they produce and sell.”  
“So, we'll sell them what already belongs to them?”  
Now I am more confused than before about our plan.  
“We're just some good citizens taking the trouble to return their stolen goods. And then, it's time we make a formal introduction, like Dutch told us.”  
I start to see a flaw in the plan: unless they are complete idiots, I don't think they won't understand it's been us who stole this… Moonshine. Besides, I don’t think we’ll be able to sell ourselves as honest citizens when we have a plaque on our foreheads screaming “outlaws” wherever we go. It’s pretty clear to me that they are going to understand who we are within two seconds and have us killed within three.  
“Are you sure they won't notice the trick?” I ask.  
“Even if they do, we'll come up with something” he answers.  
He seems certain of what he's doing and this reassures me. And then, Arthur isn't questioning a word he's saying, and this too makes me think that maybe it's me who worries too much.  
We head south passing some big plantations that Hosea remarks belong to the other powerful family of the area, the Gays, who are at war with the Braithwaites. Apparently, the two families have been fighting for so many years, that they can't even remember the cause of the beginning of this feud.  
The more information I get, the more I start thinking this business isn't a good idea. Get involved in this feud, playing both sides, I don't think anything good can come from it.  
These thoughts follow me until we get to what must be the Braithwaite property. There's a long tree-lined trail that leads to the manor and to both of its sides an endless field. They must be really rich and I start to understand why Dutch decided to approach them.  
When we reach the house, Arthur slows the wagon and the armed men guarding the property get closer menacingly.  
“Hello, gentlemen, how are you?” says Hosea falsely cheerful.  
“What's that in the back there?” inquires one.  
“Moonshine my fine fellow. May I have a word with the man of the house?”  
“The 'man' of the house is a lady. Mrs. Catherine Braithwaite.”Another one draws closer to me and signs me to get down the wagon, an order to which I obey reluctantly.  
“May I speak with her? I want to discuss a business opportunity.”The man who made me get down opens the back of the wagon and checks the content.  
“I mean no harm… no harm at all… you may happily shoot me if I do” add Hosea turning around to look at him.  
When he closes it, I climb up again, looking at him with defiance, and he stares back in hostility.  
“Okay...okay. She's at the house” says the man talking with Hosea signing us to go inside.  
Just before the wagon moves, the shit-face who looks at me like a dog ready to jump on my throat, hops on and sits next to me. I feel his eyes on me and look away, annoyed by this forced guidance.  
“You want me to teach you how to use that gun, sweetie?” he says with his raspy voice.  
“I already know, sweetie” I reply with a cold stare.  
“I want you to know that, if things get bad, I'll be the one who kills you.”“If you can.”The wagon stops again in front of the big house with the white walls. I get down just in time to see the large front door opening and a woman come out of it.  
Catherine Braithwaite must be around sixty, grey hair, thin shape, the face of someone not to be messed with.  
“What you want?” she asks sharply.  
"Found something… out in the hills, thought… thought maybe you was in the market for it” answers Hosea.  
“For what?”  
“Some liquor.”  
“I ain't in the market for what's already mine.”  
Here we go.  
“Way we see it, it's ours. What with us possessing it, and I-I checked all over, for the life of me I couldn't see your name on it.”  
I look at Hosea, shocked by his reckless behavior. The woman has clearly understood our trick and if we keep playing, I’m sure she’ll have all of us hanged.  
A knowing smile appears on her face and from the door behind her more armed men come out.  
“Oh... relax. I ain't here to rob you. Though it seems that's easy enough. Wanna do a deal. What do you sell that stuff for?” asks Hosea.  
“Dollar a bottle.” “Then give us fifty cents.” “It's already ours.” “Look on it as a reward, for finding the property. Alternative is we go sell it someplace else.” “The alternative is you get shot” says one of the men pointing a rifle at our faces.  
Instinctively, I bring my hand to the holster and grab my revolver, but the man who’s been following me since I set foot in this place comes closer growling ferociously in my ear, just like the mongrel dog he is.  
Mrs. Braithwaite laughs. She knows she can play with us the way she wants.  
“Now, who wants to get shot over a bottle or two of liquor?” says Hosea putting his hands up.  
The tension rises when the man with the rifle cocks his weapon. I do as to take my revolver, but the faithful dog next to me blocks my arm.  
Mrs. Braithwaite, who since we arrived hasn’t looked at me once, now moves her eyes on me and her face changes, just like she is suddenly thoughtful.  
“Pay him” she simply says in the end.  
Without asking questions, the man puts away the rifle, takes the money from his bag and throws them to Hosea.  
I keep staring at the lady, who looks back at Hosea returning to her smirk. She’s smart and, in spite of myself, I start to admire her. She doesn't seem the kind of person who can be fooled like this, and I can't stop thinking this is a mistake.  
“Pleasure doing business with you. And listen… we didn't take it. Least not without orders from…”  
“Oh, I know exactly who gave you your orders. Old Sheriff Gray. You know what? I don't want it. In fact, sir, now you can do me a favor, there's an extra ten bucks if you do. Drive the stuff into Rhodes, head over to the tavern run by Mr. Gray and give the stuff out for free. I believe they call that a promotional expense.”What kind game are we playing now? I have no idea, I can’t understand shit from both of them. Maybe I’m stupid or they are too smart for me.  
“You've been lucky” grunts the man next to me right in my ear and finally he lets my arm go.  
With a last hateful look, I turn around and get back to the wagon.  
“Alright, next stop: the Rhodes saloon” says Hosea.  
While we head to Rhodes he and Arthur start a conversation about some bonds and a payment, but I don't listen to them, I keep thinking about that woman. It seems impossible that she understood our trick and let us go all the same. And she payed us too! What's her profit in giving the Moonshine for free? It's just a provocation towards the Grays or it's a trap for us?  
“Hey, Fred are you there?”  
“What do you say?”  
“I'll play the part of the clown and Arthur will be my idiot brother. Now… I don't know what you can do. You're too young for being my wife…”  
“I could be your daughter, but… why are we playing as actors now?” “We can’t risk somebody understands who we are and what we’re doing.”  
Yeah, just like they don’t already know.  
“My daughter, uhm, good idea. And your mother died when she gave birth to you. Now you spend your days taking care of your old father and his half crazy brother.”  
He turns around and we exchange a look.  
“You should leave the belt with the gun or you'll catch too much attention. The hat as well. And I hope they won’t mind the trousers too much. Maybe you can re-style your hair. Now Arthur…” he adds turning again.  
“…put this hat on.”I hear Arthur complaining while I take off my belt with the weapons and put them on the back of the wagon. Then, I take the gun and hide it on the back of my pants, just as precaution.  
“Smoke this pipe. Bring your lip forward, just a bit… squint…oh, perfect” I hear Hosea saying and I smile to myself while I braid my hair.  
“What about you?” asks Arthur.  
“Shh shh. You can't speak. You're turned idiot… Quite broke poor mommy's heart” says Hosea faking a voice.  
Arthur snorts annoyed and I laugh.  
“There there, Fenton, there there. Don't get mad now.”  
“Come on uncle Fenton. We're nearly there!” I exclaim following Hosea’s lead.  
“Well done my dear… Annie. Well done!”  
After a little we get to town and head to the saloon. It's a white building with two floors and a big backyard where we stop the wagon.  
“Right… grab two cases of that stuff and follow me” orders Hosea.  
I jump down and open the back, taking one case and handing it to Arthur. When I look up at him I can't restrain a laugh. He really looks dumb.  
He grunts and rolls his eyes before following Hosea towards the back door. There, two men are guarding the entrance.  
“Gentlemen, gentlemen! Quite the town you have here, we just rode in from up north. Hello, hello, I'm Melvin. This is my brother, Fenton. Don't mind him, don't madden him. He's turned idiot. And this is my wonderful daughter, Annie.”  
I must say, he has a quick tongue when he wants to.  
“How'd you boys… how'd you boys like a couple of bucks? I bet you would... one for each of you” he says handing them a couple of dollars from the money the Braithwaite woman gave him.  
“We're in the new trade of advertising which is an American art form about ensuring people buy the correct things.”  
He really doesn’t stop talking, but even after all this, the two buddies don’t seem convinced.  
“One more dollar says give us half an hour, what harm can we do in half an hour? Go along now… enjoy the money!”  
Even if they don't look completely sure, the two of them get up and leave, so we can finally enter the saloon. When I step inside, a warm air stinking of alcohol and sweat reaches my nostrils. I thought Valentine saloon was smelly, but this one definitely beats it.  
We walk the narrow corridor with the music and voices getting louder and louder. Hosea stops at the entrance of the main room while Arthur and I head to the bar and put the two cases on the counter.  
“Gentlemen... gentlemen!”  
At Hosea’s call the music stop and the people turn around.  
“My name is Melvin. That's my brother Fenton and my daughter Annie. He's a bit funny, but boy he can pour drinks fast. For the next thirty minutes the drinks in this here bar, in this here town are entirely free!”  
Shouts of joy from the folks in the room.  
“The only rule is that you gotta drink them, so hurry up, put these two to work.”  
A crowd start gathering around the bar and Arthur starts pouring drinks with a speed I didn’t think him capable of. I thought someone who usually drinks the alcohol isn’t so able to also serve it.  
“This way!”  
“One here!”  
“Come on! We're thirsty!”  
I fill a glass after the other serving to everyone with a smile. After a little time Hosea puts a tray in my hands and tells me to serve at the tables.  
Time passes and I think we go much further the half an hour we promised to the men outside, but no-one seems to complain.  
In one hour they're all drunk and they start to look at me with different eyes, in spite of my clothing: they peer into my shirt, touch me lightly when I pass, some of them, the most courageous, use rougher manners.  
“Let's try not to cause problems” whispers Hosea in my ear when I push a man who tried to put his hands on me.  
I go back to the counter pouting and snorting and I leave the empty tray on the bar, so that Arthur can fill it.  
“Hey, honey, I have a room upstairs for two days, you want to make me some company?”  
I ignore the man who just pronounced these words, I don’t even lift my eyes on him, he’s not worth it, I received so many of these propositions that I'm tired of answering. But this one does more that propositions. From the other part of the counter he grabs my arm pulling me closer to him.  
“Come on… you must feel so lonely all day with that old man and this fool of your uncle” he mumbles, the alcohol took the best of him already.  
I try to take my arm back, but he grips harder until he hurts me so much that a wail slips away from my mouth.  
Arthur shows up from my left and grabs the man from the hair. The two look at each other and Arthur, who isn’t allowed to say a word, limits to grunt menacingly.  
I lay on the bar and reach the man's ear with my lips. The smell makes me feel sick, but I hold my breath and murmur: “You don't want to do that.”I don’t think he really understood what has just happened, but nevertheless he lets me go and stumbles away.  
“Thank you” I say to Arthur who nods meaningfully.  
We keep serving the Moonshine, clients keep drinking, the music gets louder and the drunkness raises until the room is a complete chaos.  
In the back of the room I hear the door open, and I expect to see a few more customers, but the three people that get inside make a surreal silence fall in the room. It looks like they are quite known in the surroundings.  
“Good evening, gentlemen. Quiet libation?” says Hosea not minding the tension.  
“You!” exclaim one of the three.  
“Me?” “You're the bastards who stole the liquor we was going to buy.”  
There it is, the trap set by the Braithwaite woman.  
With a pat on my shoulder Arthur shows me he’s already taking out his pistol. Without hesitation, I follow his example.  
“Gentlemen, we're in advertising… come on in, have a drink” Hosea still tries to convince them.  
“That's our goddamn liquor!”  
“An honest mistake!”  
There's no way to talk with these people. As the first gun is fired, with Arthur I take cover behind the bar while the people start running out of the saloon. More men enter the room, all armed and with mean faces.  
“Arthur, Fred, up here. Let's get going” yells Hosea from the upper floor.  
“Okay, you go first, I'll cover you” says Arthur.  
He jerks up, both his guns in hand and shoots while I jump to the other side of the bar and climb the stairs two by two.  
“Your turn” I scream and fire without exactly knowing to what I am aiming, but it doesn’t matter, the important thing is that I keep the assholes at bay.  
As he reaches me, we both run to Hosea who in the meantime opened the balcony door and is shooting down.  
“Jump on the wagon” he says when we get to him and then, quick as a cat, he jumps down.  
Arthur follows him without hesitation, but I take a moment.  
“Come on!” he says reaching his arms up and making me sign to get down.  
Behind me I can hear the men running upstairs, I can’t lose any more time.  
I take a deep breath and jump, closing my eyes tight when I feel a void in my stomach.  
I feel Arthur’s hands catch me, but right after I also feel my knees hit the hard wood of the bottom of the wagon.  
Opening my eyes, I recognize Arthur’s suffering expression under me.  
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” I ask quickly standing up.  
“It’s nothing” he replies standing too.  
Some shots make me look upstairs. The men reached the balcony and now they are shooting at us. Hosea gives a strong whip of the reins and we start moving without warning, so that both Arthur and I risk to fall from the wagon.  
“They're following us, stop them!” yells Hosea from the driver’s place.  
I grab the belt with the ammunitions and recharge my gun. There's just a bunch of men at horseback, but hit them is not easy: their shape is not perfectly visible in the twilight and the movement of the wagon doesn't allow me to aim properly, and to be honest, Hosea’s driving isn’t the best, but with a little bit of luck and a lot of help from Arthur, we get rid of them eventually.  
With my ears ringing and my heart beating fast, I sit down, recovering from all the turmoil, while Arthur joins Hosea at the driver place, and we head back to camp.

It’s Arthur’s voice that wakes me from the torpor I’ve fallen into, just like an involuntarily reaction my body had after the fight.  
“Do you think that woman set us up?”  
Yes, it's the answer that immediately comes up in my mind. Yes, she did, but you two fools are too blind to see that. After all, it takes a woman to understand a woman.  
“No, I don't think so. Maybe… this place is odd” answers Hosea and he makes the wagon stop.  
I sit up and soon realize we have reached the wood that hides the clearing with the camp.  
“Yeah, I keep seeing those fellers” says Arthur, and I think now he’s talking about the men who tried to kill us back at the saloon.  
“Some local militia. Clearly not to happy to have some new competition. I'll go visit old Ma Braithwaite, see what's what.”“Why?” asks Arthur confused.  
“We been making money. The chest is filling up again, slowly but surely. Part of me thinks we just get ourselves good and lost, but we still need a lot of money before that can happen. So, for now, let me go give old Mrs. Braithwaite some of this Moonshine as...well...let's call it a peace offering.”“Sure. Get down, Miss. Time to go home.”  
With pleasure. I grab my hat and jump down.  
“That was fun, Fenton. We'll make an actor of you yet” laughs Hosea.  
“Yeah…”  
I giggle and follow Arthur. We walk side by side, in silence, and for the first time his presence gives me a feeling I’ve never felt before. I feel safe. Next to him, knowing that he has my back, makes me feel safe. Today, at the saloon, I wasn’t scared, because he was there, fighting with me.  
I can’t believe it, I can’t believe I feel safe in the presence of a criminal. But after all, I feel safe with Charles too, and with Hosea, and Kieran, and Lenny. Well, it seems that what they say it’s true: never say never. The people are not all the same.  
Could this be the beginning of a friendship? Even after what he’s done to Downes? Can I go over all that story?  
“I'll go speak with Dutch” he says suddenly and then walks away without bothering to look at me.  
I shake my head. Friendship. I imagine what “great friend” he could be.  
I head to my tent and leave there the hat and the belt and then immediately to the kitchen where a plate full of Pearsons’s stew is waiting for me.  
“So, how did it go?” asks John when I join him around the fire with Javier, Bill and the inevitable Uncle.  
“All was good until they started shooting at us.”“Ah! Of course. And then I'm the trouble maker” says Bill.  
“You are the trouble maker, Bill” chuckles John.  
“Good evening folks. Oh… and good evening to you. Why those braids? You made the audition for the peasant?”  
With all the places around the fire, Micah choses right the one next to me. Coincidence? I don’t think so. It seems he has some sort of sick pleasure in torturing me.  
“They were looking for someone who could play the donkey, I gave them your name” I answer readily.  
“You always have a comeback, don't you?”  
“It's a skill I developed spending time in your company.”  
“Well... my company could be more pleasant if you wanted to.”  
He reaches out a hand to take one of my braids in his filthy hands.  
“Oh look, there he is, your man” he laughs pointing at John’s back and looking up I see Charles walking towards us.  
“Evening everyone.”  
We exchange a look right before he takes place.  
“Aha! So it's true! Bill told me there is something between you two” exclaims Micah.  
No, I can’t stand again what happened last time, and especially not with Charles.  
I stand up and head back to the kitchen under everybody’s gaze and with Micah’s words of derision in my ears.  
I get to the basin where I throw the plate and the spoon. Bringing a hand to my head and realize that I still have those ridiculous braids and with a quick movement I loose them. Then, I dip my hands in the fresh water and start rubbing the plate angrily.  
Why he hates me so much? Why just me? And Bill, that fucking idiot, why he goes around telling people there is something between Charles and me?  
Some footsteps distract me, and raising my gaze I recognize Charles.  
“H-hey” I say with my mouth drier than the desert.  
“Don't listen to him.”  
“Who? Micah? I don’t care what he says” I lie.  
“What about what I say?”  
My guts twist, but I keep rubbing the fucking plate like nothing happened. What does he mean? Where does this come from now?  
“Where have you been today?” he asks again.  
“W-working.”  
“Everything alright?”  
“Yes, of course. I was with Arthur.”  
I don’t know why I said that, it slipped, but when I look up I don’t see any change on his face.  
“Pearson asked me to bring some game. You want to come hunting tomorrow?”  
My heart reaches the ground and then it goes up again, just like a giant sling had thrown it up in the sky.  
Hunting? He and I? Alone?  
I become aware that I’m stuttering incomprehensible words and I close my mouth tight, settling for a simple nod of my head.  
“Okay, see you tomorrow then.”  
Oh good Lord! Do I really want to spend the morning alone with him? Do I really want to make a fool of myself in front of him again? I could have lied, I could have told him anything to avoid going with him, but I didn’t.  
Why didn’t I?


	15. An Interesting Hunt

Charles, I'm sorry but… I can't come with you. It's easy. Really easy. I just have to tell him.  
I take a sip of coffee.  
After all, he's big and strong and he knows how to hunt. He doesn’t need me. And I surely don’t need a day full of embarrassing looks and bad impressions.  
I take another sip.  
Yes, I'll tell him and we will forget about everything and I’ll try to never be alone with him again. Ever.  
“Morning Fred. How are you?”  
“Abigail! I’m fine, how are you? Listen, yesterday, was there something you wanted to tell me? You looked worried.”  
“No, no, I’m good don’t worry. How was that job with Hosea?”  
“Different. He is quite a character. We went to the saloon in Rhodes and…”  
“Are you ready?”  
With a jump I spill some coffee on the ground and on Abigail shoe. She takes a step back and looks at me reproachfully.  
“Sorry” I whisper and then I turn around to look at Charles.  
“H-hi. Err, there’s a problem. I-I can’t come. Y-you know Miss Grimshaw asked, err, she gave me an important job to do and…”  
“Uh…okay.”  
I look at him carefully, trying to catch a change in his voice, on his face, something that tells me he is disappointed, hurt, annoyed, but nothing. The man is a rock.  
“If you have something to do, I can take your place. So you can go with Charles.”I turn around again to look at Abigail with wide eyes and pursed lips, but I soon realize she isn’t truly understanding what she’a doing to me.  
“Oh… no, there's no need, really you don’t…”  
“It's not a problem. You've done so much for Jack and me. This way I'll repay you.”Yeah, of course, this way you will just put me in an awkward situation!  
I give her a meaningful look that she doesn’t catch.   
“So, we're good. I wait you by the horses” says Charles walking past me.   
I take a deep sigh and give Abigail the most severe eyes I can make.  
“What?”  
“Never mind” I say shaking my head and leaving her the cup of coffee before heading towards the horses.

We ride silently towards north, passing forests and rivers. I don’t know why this time he is taking me so far. Maybe he has something special in mind, some rare animal he wants to hunt. I even tried to ask him where is he taking me, but he answered with an ambiguous, “I want to show you something”, and I didn’t inquire further.   
So, we ride, and ride, and ride, until we reach the Dakota River and ford it, entering the West Elisabeth.   
I trust Charles with all myself and I know that whatever it is he is doing, it’s important, but the curiosity is eating me alive anyway, and I can’t but be a little nervous.  
When he finally makes Taima stop, I pull Isabella’s reins and give a look around, frowning slightly.  
I dismount, following his example, and then follow him towards the wooden wall and inside the… camp. It’s a camp made of Indian tents, teepees, but it’s abandoned. Some of them are still upright, even if a little creased, from others I can only see the ripped pieces of cloth and wooden sticks they were made of.  
I walk among them touching them slightly with my fingertips, when at the center of it a building makes its appearance.  
Charles walks past me and enters the cabin first. I follow him on the creaking stairs and through the knocked off door, entering a large room with little light and full of what look like tables, but watching better I understand they are school desks.   
A school in the centre of an Indian camp?  
Not able to understand, I turn to Charles, who’s already staring at me, waiting for a reaction. But what kind of reaction can I have if I don’t know what this place is?  
“In places like this they used to teach English to the natives so they could fit in the American society. They took the children from their families and put them in here” he explains.  
Again, I look at the room, imagining dozens of little sad children without a family bended over a piece of paper, making writing exercises.   
I’ve heard about places like this, like some sort of legend from the West, but I’ve never seen one.  
“I spent some time in a place like this, when my mother died and my father chose the alcohol instead of me. Then, I ran away and became what I am now.”  
Charles talks with a calm voice despite the pain all the story contains and when I look at him, he has no particular expression on his face.  
Among the ghosts of the children now appears a little Charles, his hair long, his eyes sad.  
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask. Is this a way to make me feel sorry for him? I already am, everyday I spend in that camp, I am sorry that none of them can have a better life.   
“To make you understand that what is in the past must stay there. You can't allow something you can't change to ruin your present or your future.”  
Is he talking about my family? About Hunt? About my life with them?  
“Which future?” I ask with a snort.  
“Whatever you want. You don't have to stick with us if you don't want to. Go and start a new life.”  
I jerk around to meet his eyes. Is he telling me not to stay with them? Is he worried that I will ruin myself if I do? I could do it, if I wanted to. I could go someplace else, start a new life, with new people. But what about them? What about him?   
“You really want me to go away?” I ask.  
We stare at each other for a moment. His dark eyes are so deep, the hair that frame his face make him look so sweet right now.  
“No” he murmurs.  
Again that feeling, like a punch on the stomach, and suddenly my legs threaten to give in and I can’t look at him anymore, so I move my eyes around the room.  
He doesn’t want me to go after all. He wants me to stay, and I’ll stay, of course I will.   
For him? I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Do I really want to feel like this for him? What if in the end he doesn’t feel the same and it’s all an illusion in my head?   
What if he does feel the same for me? What if we end up together? What about our life? Black man, white woman, we will be outlaws. Do I want to end up like Abigail? Criminal husband who risks his life everyday? Live in fear, always on the run. What kind of future can I give to my eventual kids?  
All these questions crowd my head and suddenly the air inside the cabin is unbreathable. With a short nod I walk past Charles and get outside taking deep breaths. The fresh air clears my head, but it doesn’t chase away the ghosts of the children all around me. 

What wonderful land we live in, what terrible country at the same time. A place where we can’t be who we want to be, because of social rules, bigotry, discrimination.   
What Charles showed me left a scar in my head, now I can’t stop thinking about these things while we ride back.   
“What now?” I ask when he makes Taima stop again.   
“We still have to hunt something.”  
Right, I had completely forgot about it.   
I dismount and take the bow he made me and a few arrows.   
He looks for a trail to follow and I try to concentrate on the ground as well, but my mind is still too focused on what has happened. Knowing all those things from his past, all at once, his drunk father, his dead mother, the runaway… He shared so much today.   
“Okay, this is a deer. Can you see the shape of its tracks?” he says pointing to a specific place on the ground.  
“Yes” I lie.   
“And there it stopped to eat, so it's not far. Let's go.”I thank the fact that this time he is leading the way so I just have to follow him. As soon as we spot the deer in the distance, he gets on his knees, nocks the arrow and shoots, hitting immediately the animal.   
“You’ll kill the next one” he says standing up but I stay right where I am.  
My head is far away from here, I don’t feel in the mood for hunting, but I can’t let him down.  
He shows me the beginning of a new trail and then he follows me, checking every single movement I do. Every now and then, I lose the track, but he helps me find it again with no problems.   
Only when I see the animal, I realize that what I’ve been following is a wapiti, a male, big, furry and with a pair of long antlers.  
I get as close as I can without being spotted by it, get on my knees, nock the arrow and wait. Breathing slowly and regularly, I focus completely on my aim. I need to do this right, I need to be good, a clean kill.  
Three, two, one. I let go, but the arrow misses the animal, really misses it, I’m not even close to hit it.  
The wapiti turns it’s head to look at us, and then it does something I’d never expect, it shakes its antlers angrily and starts running… in our direction!  
Caught unaware by what is happening I can't think of what to do while the animal gets closer, and closer, and closer…  
It’s gonna hit me, I know, but my head it’s like a blank page of a book. Suddenly, I don’t know how to move anymore, how to stand, how to walk.  
I feel a weight on my right pushing me hard and I fall on the ground, hitting my shoulder and letting go of the bow.  
“Are you okay?” asks Charles helping me to stand.  
“Y-yes” I say blinking a couple of times.  
“It was a male, they're more aggressive with predators when the love season comes closer.”  
“Ah! And, when you wanted to tell me exactly?” I joke rubbing my shoulder.  
He smiles, but it soon fades away when he sees something behind me. I turn around and a yelp escapes me. The wapiti is coming back.  
“Run!” he says grabbing my arm and pulling me away.  
“Why don't we kill him?” I yell.  
“He's fast! He will hit us before we can shoot.”  
I turn my head and see that goddamn furry goat getting closer.  
“He's faster than us” I remark.  
“I know. Here!”  
He covers me with his arms and makes me roll behind a tree right in time when the wapiti darts next to us. Then, he takes out his double barrel and fires. The wapiti wails and keeps running, far far away from us.  
I move my eyes from the spot where it disappeared to Charles’s face. The both of us are panting, trying to recover from the unexpected run.  
He looks at me, putting the gun back in the holster and I realize one of his arms is still around me. Suddenly, my back tenses under his touch. We are so close.  
“We hurt him… he won't come back” he says.  
“The strangest… hunt… I've ever done” I pant, but I’m not sure anymore that it is due to the run.  
“It never… happened… that the food… chased me” I laugh.  
Charles laughs too, a real laugh, showing his teeth, and this is the first time I see him doing it. A lump on my throat blocks my breathing completely and I’m not able to stop looking at him. I want to… so, so bad I want to…  
“Okay, let's go and take that son of a bitch” he says breaking the contact.  
“What?” I ask amazed.  
“We hurt him, it's an easy prey.”“But…I don't have my bow. I left it behind.”“I'll give you mine.”  
I gulp. It seems I can’t really escape this.  
This time it is easier to track the animal, because of the blood it is losing. Charles gives me his bow, I nock the arrow and aim. I’m ready to shoot, but his hands on me make me stop.   
“Wait, let me check the aim this time” he whispers on my ear and a shiver runs down my back.  
He must be doing it on purpose, to make me loose the control completely. I hate him!  
Slowly he moves my aim and then tells me to let it go. Finally, I hit the wapiti.  
“Good” he murmurs standing up.  
When he leaves, something different raises inside me, something similar to shame and disappointment. Is it my fault? Is it his fault? I couldn’t concentrate today because of him, because of the things he told me, because of the way he makes me feel. He keeps insisting in whispering in my ear like that, and touching me like that, and then nothing happens and I get more and more confused. Why does he act in this way?  
I reach him as he takes the arrow from the animal.   
“That’s not true” I say without thinking.  
“What?”  
“I wasn't good. I-I made a mess. A-and you keep…”  
He looks up at me.  
“I keep what?”  
You keep teasing me, consciously or unconsciously, this I don’t know, but I’m losing my mind and I’m scared this is nothing but a game for you. Can I tell him? No, of course not.   
“You keep lying to me, telling me I’m good but I’m not” I lie.  
“You will.”  
“No, I won’t. You say this just because…”  
“Because?”  
Now he stands up, facing me directly. Our eyes meet and my mind starts to get blurred. This straightforward and tough attitude is just making me feel subdued to him and more inclined to do things I will surely regret in an hour.  
I realize I’m still holding his bow, so, with all the strength I have, I push the feelings aside and hand it to him.   
He doesn’t take it. There is something strange on his face now, maybe some kind of emotion finally, but I’m not able to understand it.   
Convinced of what I’m doing, I push the bow on his chest, forcing him to take it, and he does, he takes the bow, but with it he grabs my hand too.  
The contact makes my breathing run faster. I try to withdraw my hand, but he tightens the grip and instead of getting away I am pulled closer to him. Is he trying to recreate the same atmosphere of the barn? I wish… I wish I could…but…  
I pull it away with force and free myself. His eyes change immediately. He seems… hurt, maybe? What does he expect me to do?   
I can’t bear his stare anymore, so I just give him my back and walk away fast.  
I’m pretty sure he’s never going to ask me to go hunting again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello!  
> Sooo, I know Charles's story is a bit different and that I've changed it, but I needed to do so for the scene, and I know the chapter is a little short (when I write about Charles everything seems too short), but I just wanted to give the idea of their feelings for each other.  
> I hope you liked it and see you soon!


	16. History Repeats Itself

“Hi beauty. It's been a while since I took good care of you, isn't it?”  
Isabella’s mantle is dusty and her hooves surely need a good clean too. I put myself to work without wasting time and when I’m done, I take a sugar cube and feed it to her.  
“It's a beautiful animal.”  
I exchange a look with Javier before turning around again with a slight discomfort.  
For how much time is he been staring at me? Why he has to stand there like one of those creepy figures? I just hope he won’t do anything stupid now.  
But he doesn’t. When he understands I have no intentions to make conversation, he walks past me and reaches his horse.  
“Where are you going?” I ask curious.  
“I've got some work to do, with John.”  
What kind of job? I only ask that to myself, I don’t want to ask him. No more than necessary contacts, that’s what I promised myself. But there’s no need for me to ask, the answer soon comes by itself.  
“That job with the Braithwaite's horses, remember?” says John showing up silently from my left.  
“You haven't done it yet? It's been days” I mock him.  
“Hey, it's not an easy job. We need time and finesse.”  
Yeah, sure, because he is the type with finesse.  
“Good luck, then” I reply with a shrug.  
A moment of silence before the fateful question.  
“Why don't you come with us?” he asks.  
I look first at him and then at Javier. Am I sure I want to spend time in his presence? We are three after all, there’s John with us, I don’t take any risks.  
“Yeah, why not?” I say in the end.

We follow the same road I made some days ago with Arthur and Hosea to get to the Braithwaite property, but when we reach the crossroad we take the right trail instead of the left.  
We find ourselves in front of another big house surrounded by plantations. Passing through them I notice that some of the fields must have caught fire, and recently too. A thick smoke lays upon the burned plants and the overall image seems to be taken from one of those English novels that provoke terror to the readers.  
“My God, what happened here?” murmurs Javier. I have the same question buzzing in my head.  
Just like the Braithwaites, the Grays also have some guards at the entrance, and they make us stop studying carefully our appearance.  
“How can I help you?” asks one.  
“We're here to talk with Herbert Gray” says John with a funny official tone that makes me smile.  
“Who sends you?”  
“No-one, Mr. Gray asked for us.”The smile disappears from my lips as I look at John’s back. Is this the truth or a very calculated lie?  
The man turns around to exchange a word with his men and then makes us sign to keep going.  
“Mr. Gray is at the stables. Follow the trail on the right.”  
I am truly surprised by John’s quick tongue and iron nerves. He’s been able to convince them in two seconds, whether he was telling the truth or not.  
The stables in this place are huge. At least twenty horses, if not more, are fitting in there, all of different breed and color. It must be one of the biggest trades in the state and the Grays must be one of the biggest sellers.  
We dismount and approach a man grooming a horse. He is not so tall, he has grey hair, thick eyebrows and sad eyes.  
“And, who are you?” he inquires with the authority of the householder.  
“Friends” replies John.  
“I don't reckon I know you.”  
He’s getting defensive now, and I’m scared he could understand what kind of people we are.  
“No sir, we don't know each other. But this don’t mean we're not here to help you.”  
Mr. Gray’s eyes dart from John to Javier and finally to me, lingering a little more on my clothing with judgement. I didn’t expect him to be open minded.  
Then, he takes the horses reins and leads it back inside the stable. When he comes out, he sits on a working table and fully focuses on us.  
“Do you think I don't know what kind of people you are?”  
John and Javier exchange a look.  
“Meaning?” says John with false innocence.  
“Don’t play dumb with me son, I know you’re working for the Braithwaites.”  
“Braithwaites?”  
“That family of degenerates.”  
It seems they think the same of you, Mr. Gray. After all, Hosea told me there was a real feud between them.  
“Look, Mister… we are good men, just like you” says John, but now he is loosing the certainty in his words.  
“You don't know me. You turn up in this town and you're helping everybody. And everywhere there's troubles. Bandits who attack my camps, men get shot… just… who are you?”  
Maybe he's old, but his mind still works fine and, from how he's looking at John, I think he understood everything about us. Just like the Braithwaite woman. If we don’t play this good, we’re screwed.  
“We want to help you, Mr. Gray. To fight against the Braithwaites” I say making everybody look at me.  
“A-as you said, they are a family of degenerates, but they have, uhm, good horses, we know. Can you help us get them? This way we’ll ruin them.”  
The man stares at me, but I don’t see surprise in his eyes. I just told him I want to rob the Braithwaites, his neighbors, and he isn’t flinching. He definitely knows who we are.  
“Oh... and, have you met my partner, Arthur Morgan?” says John suddenly making my turn around to look at the man approaching.  
“No” answers the old man.  
“I met your son, the sheriff?” says Arthur.  
“Okay.”  
“Mr. Gray here was saying how he had problems with a family. A family of degenerates” explains John.  
“Oh well, nobody likes degenerates” replies Arthur.  
“That hag and her inbred sons, they've ruined this country. They killed my uncle, you know?”  
I can't understand anymore where the conversation is aiming, weren’t we talking about horses and robberies?  
“Problem is we can't be seen to get too close” says Mr. Gray.  
“And?” asks John.  
“We've got gold, Yankee. We've got gold.”  
“I ain't no Yankee, friend. I ain't nothing. My daddy came over on the boat from Scotland.”“I'm Scottish.”  
“And the Braithwaites?”  
“Goddamn peasants!” Mr. Gray inveighs standing from the table and giving his back at us.  
I take the chance to exchange a look with Arthur, who really doesn’t seem to understand what is going on, but after all, nobody is.  
“I don't know… mongrels, slave fuckers. All you got to do is look at them” the house owner keeps saying with the same disgust in his voice.  
“Mr. Gray, if we take these horses, for you, what is our reward” I say, trying to make him focus again on our main objective.  
He turns around to look at me with severity.  
“These are prized horses I'm talking about, them they'll get you… five thousands” he says.  
“Five thousand? For horses?” exclaims John sceptic.  
“And where do we sell them, these five thousand dollar horses?” asks Arthur with the tone of who doesn’t believe a word he’s listening to.  
“Over in Clemens Cove. Feller over there will run them out of state and give you fifty cents on the dollar.”  
Well, he is well informed about the hoses black market in the surroundings.  
“Mister, you got yourself a deal” says John stretching out a hand.  
“Just keep us away from this, publicly I mean” replies Mr. Gray ignoring the hand.  
“And... go to the stables on the south side of the manor, that's where they keep the thoroughbreds” he adds.

“You shouldn’t be here” says Arthur as soon as we leave the stables.  
“What? If it wasn’t for me you would be still talking about Scotland and mongrel dogs” I reply.  
“What if the Braithwaites recognize you?”  
“And you? You was with me that day, if I remember right.”  
“Ahhh, fine, just… keep a low profile.”  
Riding out of the property, we exchange a nod of goodbye with the guarded men.  
“That crazy old fool…” murmurs John.  
“If he only knew we just torched his tobacco crop” laughs Arthur.  
“That was you?” exclaims Javier before I can.  
“The old man was cursing the Braithwaites about that” says John amused.  
“Burning rich folks property? Sean was like a pig in shit” says Arthur.  
“Jesus” I whisper picturing it in my mind.  
For being two families who have been hating each other for centuries, the Braithwaite’s and the Gray’s properties are really close to each other and we reach our destination in no time.  
“So, what do we do?” asks John.  
“The place is well-guarded, so there ain't no point in blasting in there. We'll make them think we're there looking to purchase” replies Arthur.  
“Three armed men? And a woman?” asks Javier glancing at me.  
Well, he’s not wrong.  
“You'd be armed if you were about to spend five thousand on horses. And the woman, well… she is the greatest expert among us.”  
I look at Arthur and we smile to each other. What an idiot he is sometimes.  
We ride around the property until we reach a side gate with just a man guarding it. He watches us suspiciously while we get closer.  
“Can I help you gentlemen? And, uhm, lady?”  
“Yeah, we're here to see about some horses” answers John.  
“Horses?”  
“Yes, we had an appointment with… Mr. Braithwaite, I believe.”  
“Yeah, I've never heard about any of this.”  
This is not a good start, the Grays were definitely dumber.  
“Our partner wanted to make a significant investment in some stables down here, but… perhaps we should look elsewhere” says John with fake disappointment.  
“Well, I… okay then. Head on up to the stables…”  
Well, maybe I talked too soon.  
“Okay, the stable must be down there. There's no need to rush. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention” says Arthur.  
No, we definitely don’t. If they recognize him, or me, we risk to jeopardize the “incredibly clever double game” Dutch demands from us.  
“Okay, this time let me do the talking” says Arthur when we reach the stables, definitely more well-kept and wider than the Grays’s, even if with less horses.  
We leave the horses and approach a man who’s cleaning a saddle in front of the stable door.  
“Hello there” says Arthur.  
“Can I help you?”  
“I hope so. Heard you got some horses.”  
The man moves his eyes on each and everyone of us. This one seems particularly interested in Javier more than me and the way I’m dressed.  
“We always got horses” he answers in the end.  
“Fine horses, I mean.”  
“I don't get you, friend.”  
“Yeah, you do, come on…”  
“Listen, why don't you get out of here? You, the lady, scar face and your greaser buddy.”  
“Whoa!” exclaims Javier clearly annoyed by his words.  
“I don’t like officials” says the man.  
“Do we look like officials?” I reply.  
“We ain't officials. We're connoisseurs. Looking to do some breedings. Come on now, partner” adds Arthur.  
The man sighs and looks around, maybe hoping one of his friends can get him out of this situation, but there seems to be no-one else around.  
“Okay, fine. Follow me” he gives up walking inside the stable.  
Arthur and John are the first to follow him, I’m about to to the same, but a hand on my shoulder stops me.  
“You keep watch” says Javier pushing me roughly back before waking inside.  
I look at his back in bewilderment. Why this angry attitude? What pushed him to treat me like this all of a sudden?  
Scoffing theatrically, I lay against the doorjamb waiting for them to do their “business”. I hear the Braithwaite man describe the horses and then a thump and the noise of a body falling onto the ground. Right after, the three of them come out with one horse each. One black, one brown, one white, the three smell really of a five thousand dollars promise.  
“Javier, you're gonna lead the stallions. Marston, you ride point. Me and Fred, we'll cover up the back. If there's any problems we regroup at Clemens Cove” orders Arthur hitching the horses to Javier’s saddle.  
“What the hell you doing?”  
We all turn around when we hear the man screaming. He is one of the Braithwaites.  
As quickly as possible me all mount up and spur the already nervous horses.  
“Stop! Stop! They're robbing us!”More men come out of the stables and buildings around us, some of them fire their guns, but they soon stop. I believe they don't want to risk and hit their horses.  
We disappear so fast that they don’t even have the time to send people at horseback after us and we find ourselves in the open country and without a soul after us.  
“Mierda! One got loose” shouts Javier when one of the horses runs away.  
“I'll go catch him. See you at the meeting point” says Arthur following him.  
As we get to Clemens Cove a low wall and a little paddock are waiting for us. I thought that, who buys illegal horses, had a real hidden place where to put them, not this… chicken yard.  
Arthur arrives after a couple of minutes and with  
John and Javier they start talking with the buyers. I draw back, where I can't hear their voices, so I don't have to listen to another crazy conversation.  
One of the two men, who from the distance seem exactly identical, throws some money to John and then takes the reins of the three horses leading them inside the paddock.  
As they walk back to me, I can perfectly see from their faces that things didn't go as expected.  
“What?”  
“Marston got tricked again” says Arthur harshly.  
“Hey, we all believed to the story of the five thousand dollar horses” replies John.  
“So, no five thousand?” I ask.  
“No five thousand.”  
From his voice I understand he is disappointed, maybe he feels guilty for believing in Mr. Gray’s words?  
“Well, we couldn't know that. It’s not your fault, John” I reassure him, but it doesn’t seem to work very well. 

As soon as we get back to camp, it’s Miss Grimshaw who welcomes me, with a face that means only one thing: troubles.  
“Miss, are you going to work from time to time?” she asks, her hands on her hips.  
“What do you think I've been doing? A little promenade?” I reply pointing at John, Arthur and Javier after me.  
“Really funny. Now, come on” she says with a sign of her hand.  
I scoff loudly, but follow her all the same. I don’t want to hear her complain.  
“I need you to move this water. One bucket per tent” she commands.  
“Why wait for me? Anyone could have done it.”“You're the strongest of the girls here and these aren't exactly light. Now, stop with the questions and get busy.”  
“Good morning, Molly” I say to Miss O'Shea leaving a bucket to Dutch's tent.  
“You alright, Jack?” I greet the boy bringing the water to Abigail and John.  
“Look, we have a dog!” he exclaims pointing to a grey haired mongrel, a new entry apparently.  
“Hi, Mary Beth, Tilly” I say to the two girls bringing a bucket to them.  
“Arthur. Hey, you going somewhere?” I ask when I reach his tent with some water and notice he's changing his clothes.  
“Williamson found something in Valentine.”  
“Valentine? You're fools if you think you can go back there after what happened.”“We'll do it fast. They won't notice us until we…”  
“Oh! Herr Morgan!”  
“Herr Strauss.”“Guten Tag, Miss Faraday.”I don’t answer, I don’t even look at him. As he gets closer to talk with Arthur my first impulse is to go away, but the words he pronounces, stick my feet to the ground.  
“That man, the debtor, Thomas Downes…”  
All the muscles in my body tense and I fix my eyes on his rat face.  
“...apparently he's dead.”  
The bucket in my hands is heavy, so heavy that it slips from my grip and falls on the ground, spilling the water on the grass on on my shoes, but I don’t care about it right now, I can’t even feel it, I can’t feel nothing but…  
“You did it” I say grinding my teeth.  
“Excuse me?”  
“You killed him.”  
I feel my eyes fill with tears and my hands arbitrarily tighten around his neck.  
“You killed him!”  
“I-I… Miss I have no idea…” he stutters, my grip on his throat already so strong that he chokes on his own words.  
“You killed him! You killed him!”  
Then, some hands on me and Arthur’s voice in my ears.  
“Stop! It wasn't him!”  
I let Strauss go and turn around to push Arthur away, disgusted by his touch.  
“Yeah, you’re right. You're right, Arthur. Because he sent you to kill him!”  
“What?”  
“So it's your fault!”  
With all these turmoil I haven’t noticed that I started to cry, and the tears tickling my cheeks surprise me. I brush them away with a firm hand.  
“What's going on here? Why you're yelling?” asks Hosea showing up with half the camp after him.  
Arthur seems enough touched by my words, but I decide not to stop. Not yet.  
“But all this would have never happened if it wasn't for this piece of shit here! You ruined a family!” I yell to Strauss.  
“He was ill” says Arthur.  
“He was, wasn't he? Well then… I hope that whatever he had, it comes and takes you two bastards too.”That’s the final blow. He lowers his head and says nothing more. He knows I’m right. Everybody knows.  
“And you know what, Herr Strauss?” I keep going. My intention is to humiliate them so much that next time they’ll think twice about doing something like this to a family of honest people.  
“How much was Downes debt?” I ask opening my satchel.  
“HOW MUCH!”  
“E-e-erm...Two hundred…”  
“Fine, take these. It's one hundred and fifty” I say taking all the money I have and pushing it in his hands.  
“When I have the others I'll give them too, but I'm warning you… you get close to that family again… I'll fucking kill you!”  
With the eyes of everybody on me, I turn around and head to the horses, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth and letting my tears run free. 

I realize that I have taken the road to Rhodes, when, with my sight still blurred, I reach the town entrance. Some people stare at me, for my red eyes of for the way I’m dressed, I don’t know. I ignore them and keep walking until I get through the entire city and stop in front of the Gray's saloon.  
I glance at my watch. Definitely too soon, but who cares.  
I catch the attention of those few customers when I walk inside, and I just hope none of them will recognize me from the gunfight. The bullet signs are still visible on the walls.  
I get to the bar and sit on a stool.  
“What can I get you, Miss?” asks the barman.  
“Uhm…whatever you want.”  
He fills a glass with something amber that I drink straight. My throat burns and I cough among the barman chuckles. He’s about to take the bottle away, but I grab his arm and make him stop.  
“No, please. Leave it.”  
He stares at me for a minute and then, with a sigh, he opens it again and fills up my glass before leaving it on the counter.  
“Is everything alright?” he asks.  
I nod and drink again. I haven’t convinced him, but fortunately there are more customers who need him, so he is forced to leave me.  
I pour another glass and then another until I start to feel dizzy.  
I'm so confused. Could I have done something to avoid his death? But, Arthur said he was ill. But maybe he made things worse when he beat him that day. Or maybe not. Whose fault is it?  
I drink.  
I could have definitely saved him. Only if I wanted to. I should have gone with Arthur that day. I wonder what he did to him.  
I drink and this time my head spins so fast that I have to close my eyes.  
What am I doing? Why I'm still with these people? Why I didn't go away? Why do I care about what Dutch told me? Is this the reason why I’m staying? For what he told me? I already know the answer is no.  
I pour another glass and bring it to my lips, but I can drink it.  
“That won't help you.”I know that voice.  
“Go away” I say without even turning around.  
“Let's get back” says Charles reaching my side.  
I shake my head and feel suddenly sick. If I don’t throw up it will be a miracle.  
He grabs my arm. I try to free myself with a yank but lose my balance on the stool and fall on the ground, hitting all my right side. With a scream of pain I try to get up, but Charles lifts me.  
“Are you okay?” he asks.  
I free myself from his grip, with the room swimming around me, but he doesn't allow me to go anywhere.  
“We take a room” he says grabbing me again.  
“N-no, n-no.”  
The more I fight the more he retains me. There’s no chance for me to beat his strength.  
He leads me on the back of the saloon and inside a room with green walls. He makes me sit on the bed and then goes back to close the door.  
“When you feel better we'll get back to camp.”I shake my head, again a bad idea.  
“You have to do it sooner or later.”  
“No.”Silence falls and I force myself to lift my eyes from the floor to look at him. He doesn’t have the usual inexpressive face this time, it is something between sadness and surprise.  
“You want to go away?”  
“Your advice.”“Why now?”  
I don’t know what to answer so I stare back at the floor.  
“Is it for Strauss? It wasn't his fault.”“Yes, it was” I snap standing up, but this is a mistake. I try to take a step and I trip on my own foot and if it wasn’t for Charles, who readily catches me, I would be on the floor right now.  
“Don't mix up the two things” he says kindly.  
“No, shut up.”“It's not what happened to your family. Strauss did nothing. And Arthur neither. I know him a little and I'm sure he didn't hurt him. He was an ill man.”  
“Shut up!” I say and push him away, but he persists and surrounds me with his arms, holding me so tight that I can’t move anymore.  
“Don't go away” he whispers.  
My heart sinks and I’m not able to hold my tears back.  
I surround his waist with my arms and hide my face on his chest, feeling the beating of his heart against my skin. It’s like we find ourselves in another world, one where there is no time, no days, no seasons. It’s just him and I. Alone. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Hello!  
> How are you? Better than my OC I hope.  
> Honestly speaking, there isn't one person that I actually hate at camp: not even Strauss, or Micah, or Dutch. I have played the game three times now and every time I can understand them more, their choices, why they have done what they have done. Strauss for example, he was just doing what he was good at for taking care of his family. Is usury a good thing? No. But at that time it was legal. And he brought some money in camp at least.  
> Let me know if you think differently, maybe we'll start a debate ;)  
> I hope you liked the chapter! See you soon!


	17. Revelations

Just now, as the hot water releases the tension of my muscles and the soap tickles my face, just now I understand how my reaction must have seemed exaggerated. Should I apologize? With Strauss, and especially with Arthur? After all the things we’ve been through together…  
I get out of the tub and start dressing up. A hot bath is exactly what I needed to clear my head.  
A knock on the door makes me turn around.  
“Come in.”  
It’s Charles.   
“You ready? Can we go?”  
“Yeah, sure.”

We arrive in camp with the sun already low on the lake, a view I will never get used to.   
“Charles, Fred. Dutch wants to speak with you.”I turn around and exchange a look with Hosea asking him silently what this is about, but he does everything he can not to make me understand, so I look at Charles, who simply nods at Hosea and leads the way.  
It’s pretty clear that I will get into trouble for my actions, but Charles, he did nothing that needs a punishment.  
We find Dutch seated on the chair in front of his tent, elbows on his knees, deep in his thoughts. We don’t need to announce our presence, he looks up at us and then stands with a sigh.  
His severe look makes me lower my gaze on the grass under my feet.  
“Where have you been?” he inquires.  
“I needed to think” I say before Charles could pronounce a single word.  
“I hope you cleared your head” replies Dutch with a tough tone.  
I nod, keeping my gaze low.  
“I need you to do something for me.”  
The unexpected request gives me the strength to look up at him.   
“You have to find Trelawny.”  
I turn my head towards Charles who just like before nods silently. Am I the only one here who didn’t expect to receive a job?  
“You’ll find his caravan north of Rhodes. I’ll talk to Arthur as soon as he comes back and tomorrow morning you’ll go.”  
He stares at me and I think that what he wants me to understand is that this job is a way for me to catch up after today. Yeah, I got the message.  
“Good, you can go” he says in the end.  
With Charles we move to the rest of the camp and it is at this moment that I spot Strauss in the distance, seated at his table with his nose buried in his ledger. The rage and the dismay rise again, but I try to repress them with all myself and instead I turn to look at Charles and thank him for everything he has done for me today. As we part, I head towards the loan shark repressing all my bad feelings.  
“Herr Strauss.”He raises his eyes on me.  
Oh Lord, say these words is harder than I thought. I feel my tongue stuck to the bottom of my mouth, just like my body is fighting against itself.  
“I just wanted to apologize for my behavior today. It was too much. It’s true that… I don’t like what you do, but to accuse you in that way wasn’t right.”  
I wait for an answer that doesn’t come and as I stare at him, the only thing he does is take a brief nod before returning to his ledger.  
I take a deep breath, repressing the instinct to yell at his face, and instead I move away, to the scout campfire, where I sit and take out my revolver.  
I’ve taken all my humility and remorse to apologize to him and he doesn’t even give me an answer! What a… he is truly a…  
I’m still looking for the right degrading adjective when a noise of horses hooves distracts me. I turn around and see Karen, Bill, Lenny and Arthur appearing from the wood.  
They must be back from Valentine.   
So, what now? I go and apologize to Arthur too Somehow it seems to me more difficult than doing it with Strauss. Maybe because with Strauss I wasn’t really sorry? While with Arthur… I didn’t want to say those things to him, I don’t really wish him death or disease.  
In the meantime, Arthur reaches Dutch’s tent where he stops to exchange a few words, and then he moves to his own tent and start undressing.  
I collect all my courage and stand up. As he hears me come closer, he turns around and gives me a quick look before turning around.  
“What?”  
“I-I’m sorry, I… I wanted to apologize for today, for what I said. I was wrong.”“No need to apologize.”“Yes, I have to. I didn’t mean all those things.”  
“Like I said, no need to…”“Arthur.”  
When I say his name, he finally turns around to look at me.  
“I was wrong.”  
With a nod and a hint of a smile he seems to forgive me in the end. I smile too, hoping that he believed me, because I really meant it. 

The morning is unusually cool. I sip my coffee standing on the little dock, watching the sunrise and unable to stop thinking about Downes. Actually, about his wife and son. I really hope that my gesture can help them and that without the need to collect the money for Strauss they could carry on, at least for a little time.   
“Hey, we have to go” Arthur calls me from the shore.  
Walking past the kitchen, I leave the cup on the table before heading to the horses where Charles is saddling Taima.  
“What exactly we have to discuss with Trelawny?” he asks as we mount up.  
“Dutch wants us to ask him about these bounty hunters who are coming for us. Hoping he can tell us who they are, or where they’re coming from” answers Arthur.  
We take the road to Rhodes and as we reach the entrance of the town, instead of walking inside, we take the path heading north, where Dutch said Trelawny’s caravan would be.  
I’ve met him only once, but Trelawny didn’t seem to me the kind of man that could live in a caravan. I thought more of hotels, rented rooms…  
We reach the place. It’s a sort of clearing with a lot of caravans and most of them abandoned. Maybe only a few are occupied.  
“Reckon it’s that one with the fire outside” remarks Arthur and what we see as we approach it doesn’t seem ideal. The front door is knocked off, just like someone has bursted it open, and on the inside everything seems upside-down.   
I dismount and lay a hand on my revolver as I take a look around. Maybe they already took him, these famous bounty hunters. Maybe we’ve come too late.  
Charles is the first who walks inside, followed by Arthur and finally me. The room inside the caravan is too little and it’s impossible for the three of us to move easily. “Let’s see if we can find some hints” say Arthur, but what he asks is not easy at all. It’s like a tornado passed through here: papers everywhere, broken stuff and… blood stains.  
There is another door on the other side of the caravan, knocked off as well.  
I walk out front he other door and study the footprints I spotted on the ground. They aren’t perfectly visible because the earth is particularly dry in this place, but they are unmistakable all the same.   
“They were two, I guess, maybe three. They dragged him this way” I say pointing at them.  
We go back to the horses and then I put everything in the hands of my trusted companions to follow the tracks that lead us to the path going northward.  
“Not the kind of place I’d expect to see Trelawny staying in” says Arthur.  
“No?” asks Charles.  
“Normally scams himself into the best hotel in town.”  
Just what I thought. I wonder what pushed him to stay here instead. Maybe he knew he was hunted and decided that a less eye-catching accommodation was what he needed.   
“You know…when me and Javier went down with Trelawny to get Sean, after the bar fight? I swear he talked the whole way and never actually said a damn thing” says Charles.  
“I thought you knew that’s his special talent” laughs Arthur.  
I smile too, thinking about how much annoyed Charles had to be with all that vain blabbering.   
“They cut through the forest here” he remarks leaving the path and I follow him without questioning his ability in following the tracks, also because I lost them almost immediately at the beginning.  
Right after, we find a clearing with two men camped there. They seem to be here just to enjoy the fresh air of the woods, but Arthur and Charles decide to stop anyway ask them some questions.  
“Excuse me” says Arthur.  
“Yes?” answers one of the two.  
“Have you seen…” he begins, but he immediately stops looking around.  
“We’re uh…we’re looking for our friend” he says with a different voice and I ask myself what made him change his attitude. Has he understood something I didn’t?  
“I don’t think he’s here” replies the man.  
“Nah… you seen a strange sort of feller… sort of formal?” Arthur insists.  
“Strange, sure. Formal, no.”Okay, they’re definitely hiding something.  
“He uses a cane, looks a lot like this one” says Charles picking up a wooden cane from the ground that I haven’t noticed before.   
I look at the two men, who now are standing up, and lay my hand on my gun ready to deal with the two assholes.  
“Alright you two… where the hell is he?” shouts Arthur.  
“You better get outta here!” exclaims one man pushing Charles, but this is a mistake because after taking a few steps back, he throws himself against him giving him one of the most powerful punches I’ve ever seen.  
Arthur does the same punching the other one and knocking him out. I keep my hand on the holster, but I don’t take out the revolver. There’s no need for my intervention, they are doing a great job.  
Arthur approaches the man that Charles is blocking on the ground and starts interrogating him.  
“Where’s Trelawny?”  
“I don’t know anything.”  
Punch on the nose.  
“Tell me where he is!”  
“You go to hell!”  
Another punch.  
“You better tell me now, you son of a bitch!”  
“Okay, okay… for Christ’s sake. They took him to a cabin, over by the cornfields.”   
“Which cornfields?”  
“Left… down the path there… by the Braithwaite Manor.”  
I let a moan escape my lips. Again those fucking Braithwaites.  
Arthur hits the man one last time to make him pass away and then we walk back to the horses.  
Taking the road so kindly pointed out by our friend, Charles asks what these bounty hunters could possibly want from Trelawny and Arthur guesses they are looking for Dutch. Apparently Trelawny has a big mouth and it’s possible he could have given up our position.  
He goes in and out as he pleases, he can’t keep his mouth shut… Why Dutch still deals with him? This is my question, and it is also Charles’s question.  
“He’s got his uses and, well… loyalty matters to Dutch” answers Arthur to the both of us.  
“Of course, but is Trelawny loyal?”  
“Kind of. I guess Trelawny ain’t exactly disloyal… just got a big mouth. Don’t worry. If he talked, I’ll goddamn find out what he said.”  
His words strike me. If we talk about strangers, make them talk is part of the job, so nothing new, but Trelawny… he is one of us, past of the group. Every now and then at least. Will Arthur give him the same treatment all the same?  
As we exit the forest, we find ourselves on a hill that overlooks the corn crops the man was talking about. There is a cabin here and two horses hitched on the outside. We dismount when the front door opens and three figures come out.   
“Let’s get you out of here, come on boy. The thing is, after that shack, this will be remembered like a good time” is saying one of the two men who’s dragging Trelawny from under his arms.  
Mr. Trelawny, his face swollen and half passed out, is not resisting them.  
“Put the man down, gentlemen” says Arthur pointing his gun at them.  
Charles does the same and I waste no time in following their lead. The two men exchange a look of terror before letting Trelawny go, who immediately falls down, and run away towards the crops.  
Charles runs to cut him free as Arthur asks if that’s the lot of them.  
“I…I think so” mumbles Trelawny not fully conscious.  
“Go, go take them, I’ll take care of him” I say kneeling next to Charles.   
I don’t have to repeat twice. They chase the cowards as I cut the man free.  
“You’re okay, Mr. Trelawny?” I ask.  
“Yes, my dear” he answers, but his voice is suffering.  
“Are you sure? You don’t look well” I say putting an arm around his shoulder and helping him to stand.  
“Ahh… I’ve seen worse than this.”  
I bring him to the chair next to the cabin and make him sit when I hear two shots coming from the the crops. I turn around and try to identify the shapes in the distance.  
“Go help them. I can handle it” says Trelawny.  
I look at his bruised face, studying his traits. And, what if he wants to be let alone just to run away? He could have talked and now the runaway could be the only way to save himself from Dutch’s judgement.   
“Don’t worry, I won’t go anywhere. Right now, I wouldn’t even be able to get on a horse by myself” he adds with a painful smile, just like he could read my thoughts.  
I nod and run towards the crops from where I can already hear Charles’s voice.  
“Arthur! I see movement down there!”  
From my understanding, they are looking for those cowards, who hide among the corn plants. I see them running towards the spot Charles pointed and decide to go around it so to surround whoever is hiding there. I walk low and silently, until I sense some movement. He doesn’t seem to have noticed me, so I follow him, paying a lot of attention on not to be seen and when he stops I do the same.  
Suddenly, I hear some struggle and then a man shouting: “He’s mine!”  
It’s not a voice I can recognize, so I stick out a little to understand the situation. The man - one of those who kept Trelawny as hostage - is chocking Arthur with a rope. Charles, with his hands up, is slowly getting closer.  
“Let me take him… you get outta here” says the man.  
“You have my friend” replies Charles.  
“He’s not your friend… I’ll give you money.”I move fast, before I can even think about what to do, taking the knife from my belt, jumping at the man’s back, and sticking it in his throat. He kneels, letting Arthur go, and brings his hands to his throat, but it’s already too late. Strength leaves his body and he falls on me. I keep him still as he struggles for freedom, for life, while out of the corner of my eyes Arthur frees his neck from the rope and coughs a couple of times.  
“You okay?” I ask him when he stands.  
“Yeah, thank you” he says moving the lifeless body from over me and reaching out a hand that I grab to help me stand.  
“Take it as another apology for yesterday. Now, we’re square.”  
“Right. Where’s Trelawny?”  
“On the hill.”  
“Let’s hope he didn’t run.”  
“I don’t think he wants to.”  
Before following Arthur, I glance at Charles, who’s staring at me. As always I can’t understand much from his eyes, but I want to think he’s proud of how I dealt with the man, so I smile at him before following Arthur.  
“Mr. Trelawny, where are you?”   
“Over here, dear boy.”  
As he promised, he hasn’t moved from where I left him.  
“You okay?” asks Arthur.  
“Never finer.”  
With a nod to Charles, who walks away, towards the horses, Arthur reaches his side to help him stand.  
“So, who was they?”  
“They were bounty hunters, attached to Cole Stoudemire” replies Trelawny putting an arm around Arthur’s shoulders.  
I run to help him on the other side. His legs doesn’t seem to work properly and I wonder what they have done to him.  
“Okay.”  
“They weren’t looking for me, per se” he adds standing up with some difficulties and going towards Charles who’s leading a horse for him.  
“What you tell ‘em?”  
“Not much. I… told them I was an intellectual come down here from Oregon looking for a job at the university.”  
Arthur helps him on the saddle and then takes a step back to look at him.   
“Course, they didn’t believe me. Seems you stirred up quiet a hornet’s nest in Blackwater” adds Trelawny.  
“So I keep hearing” replies Arthur.  
He seems to believe every word Trelawny is saying and he doesn’t insist on the veracity of his statements. I thought I would assist to another interrogation, but apparently, Arthur actually treats the members of the group differently, with… kinder manners.  
“It might be best if I stay with you gentlemen for a while. Can’t go back to the caravan now” says Trelawny as we all mount on our horses.  
“Alright, you two take Trelawny back to camp, I’ll catch up with you” orders Arthur.  
“Okay, let’s go” says Charles with a nod in my direction.  
But I don’t follow him immediately, first I glance at Arthur. Where is he going? Wandering all alone, and to do do what?  
“Miss, are you with us?”  
I turn around and exchange a look with Trelawny. He is waiting for me so I spur Isabella and reach his side.  
“So, it seem that you’re officially a member of the gang now” he remarks as we ride side by side.  
“So it seems.”“You know, I made some… well I think we can call them ‘researches’ on you since I met you the first time. Oh, don’t worry, I’m just a curious man” he adds when I look at him.  
“Anyway, I found out about the tragedy that affected your family and I must say, you struggled really good in the last year.”  
It’s incredible! Even if he’s not really part of the group he already knows everything about me too. How can these people find out certain things? Where do they hear the voices?  
“And I also found out that the culprits have received a house call from justice.”  
I move my eyes on Charles and we exchange a knowing look.  
“Of course it would have been much better if our mutual friend, Mr. Bell, helped you in the search of his ex colleague.”  
“What?”  
“From how you’re watching me I understand you didn’t know. And neither did Mr. Smith here” says Trelawny as the both of us frown at him.  
“Mr. Hunt and Mr. Bell were colleagues once. But it seems they had… divergent opinions about ‘legal work’, if we can call it this way.”  
While he talks he takes a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to me. It’s a newspaper cutting.

New Robbery in Utah! Suspects on the Run!  
Today the good citizens of St. George have been awaken by the latest robbery from hand of Billy Clive’s gang.   
The suspects, who the authorities recognized as Micah Bell and James Hunt, entered in St. George’s central bank in the middle of the night, they think with the help of one of the employees, and took almost $4.000.  
Researches continue…

I knew I read that name somewhere! I knew it! A bitter smile curves my lips. Who else could Micah work with if not someone like Hunt.

For all the time of our return, Mr. Trelawny doesn’t stop talking, not even for a second, just like Charles said. Lucky for him, this time I am dealing with Trelawny and his silver tongue, so that he can ride a little bit away from us and not listen.  
“Josiah! Good to see you again!” exclaims Hosea as soon as we reach camp.  
We help him to dismount the horse and bring him to Strauss’ tent.  
“It seems you haven’t had the greatest of the times since we freed you” says Hosea.  
“It seems. These… bounty hunters really want to catch you” replies Trelawny.  
Charles and I leave them to their talking and move to the rest of camp. I’m walking by his side when some voices and laughs catch my attention. It’s Micah seated near one of the campfires with some other people. I know I shouldn’t cause any more troubles, but just the sight of him makes my guts twist and I have the untamable instinct to face him.  
“What you want to do?” asks Charles.  
I turn to look at him and I can perfectly see he is worried, just like he understood my intentions. He doesn’t want me to do this, but I have to know, I need to know.  
“Talk” I say and head to the campfire.  
“The truth is you worry too much” is saying Micah.  
“Dutch has a plan. You must have faith. We’ll go back to Blackwater, take the money and disappear, forever” he adds.  
“Is it something you do often, disappear?” I ask catching everybody’s attention.   
He looks up at me and a forced smile appears on his face.  
“Sometimes, when things get bad, it’s better to run rather than act like a hero and risk your life” he answers.  
“So, this is what happened with James Hunt? Things got bad and you abandoned him? I wonder…” I keep saying while I take a seat opposite to him.  
“…if this happened before or after he murdered my family.”  
Micah lets out something between a scoff and a laugh. What now? Is he nervous? Did I uncover him?  
“You think you know everything, don’t you, girl?” he says with a mischievous smile.  
“I just want to know why you didn’t tell me that you knew Hunt.”“Because I had no idea you where looking for him.”  
“Or maybe because you where with them when it happened.”  
“How could I? I stopped working with Hunt more than a year ago” he laughs.  
“And my family died more than a year ago.”  
“Well… I guess it was before, then.”  
“I think you’re a liar.”  
He laughs again and shakes his head.  
“You see ghosts everywhere. And you’re starting to lose clearness” he says.  
I don’t move my eyes from him, eager to find an hint, a look, a movement, everything that could make me understand he is lying.  
“I think Micah is right, it could have happened after. Come on… how, how can he do something like that?” asks Bill.  
I want him to give up, to fail some emotion, some nervousness, but he is like a rock.  
“I think he’s exactly the kind of man who can do something like that” I tease, but he doesn’t fall.  
We stay like this, staring at each other as he sustains my inquiring gaze without even flinching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Josiah Trelawny, ladies and gentleman, I love this man! The way he speaks always makes me smile, he gives me happiness. I've done my best with him. This is also one of my favorite missions, with Charles that put his foot on the man's chest and says "you stay there". LOVE.  
> Anyway, I hope you like it.  
> A big kiss to you and see you soon!


	18. Disobedience

Why he has to stay there? With all the places around camp, right there, where I have to go. I have no other choice, though. I take a deep breath and draw closer.  
“Have you seen Miss O’Shea?” I ask coldly.  
He slowly raises his eyes on me with that usual mock that annoys everybody here in camp. And especially me.  
“Morning to you” he says with a greasy smile.  
“You’re waisting my time, Micah. Have you seen Dutch at least?”  
“Maybe…why?”  
I snort and turn around. It looks like I have to find someone else. Easily done. Not far from Dutch’s tent, where Micah put down roots this morning, sitting at the table and reading his book there’s Hosea.   
“Good morning” I say walking to him.  
“Morning.”  
“Of course, you’re kind with him” I hear Micah saying behind me, but I ignore him.  
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but… do you have a piece of paper? I have to write a letter” I say sitting on the chair in front of him.  
“Yes, I think… here” he murmurs looking inside his sack.  
“Thank you.”  
I smooth the piece of paper on the table and take the pen Miss O’Shea gave me.   
After what happened in the last few days, I have completely forgot about Albert, who by now will be so worried since he didn’t receive an answer to his last letter.  
I stare at the white page, looking for the best words I could use. 

Dear Albert…

I hear footsteps and turning around I see Arthur walking past me. He approaches Dutch’s tent, clearly looking for him, but just like me he has the misfortune to stumble into Micah.  
“Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called…” he starts, but Arthur isn’t even listening to him, his attention caught by Molly passing nearby.  
“Hey Molly, where’s Dutch?”  
With an angry movement of her hand she walks away. Nobody seems to be in the right mood today. Before I’ve met Abigail, and she seems pretty worked up too.  
“Well… however it goes” ends Micah when he understands nobody is listening to him.  
“I’m not sure that line of thought serves you or me very well” says Arthur.  
“Well that’s because, cowpoke, you are a man of profoundly limited intelligence” replies Micah.  
Yeah, look who’s talking. I let out a snort and try to focus again on my letter, but I can’t help listening to their conversation.  
“While you and the old man and Dutch have been running around digging us ever deeper into shit, old Mr. Pearson might have gone and lightened the load a little. Pearson!” Micah calls out.  
What the hell is he talking about? Maybe this thing is more interesting than I thought it would be. Raising my eyes form the paper, it gives me the impression that even Hosea now is carefully listening to them.  
Mr. Pearson and Dutch arrive at the same moment so that now the cook can explain whatever he has to explain to the boss himself.  
“It’s peace, Dutch… the O’Driscolls… I mean, I think there’s a way.”  
“What on earth are you talking about?” asks Dutch.  
“I met a couple of the O’Driscoll boys on the road into town, things were about to get ugly, but you know how I am in a fight, huh? Like a cornered tiger” says Pearson laughing.  
Also Hosea chuckles and when I look at him I see he’s shaking his head. I smile, but keep quiet looking again at my white paper although my mind is far away from the words I have to write.  
“Anyway… somehow it didn’t, but… we got to talking and they suggested a parley to end things… like gentlemen” says Pearson.  
“Gentlemen? Colm O’Driscoll? Have you lost your minds?” Dutch exclaims.  
“You’re always telling us, Dutch… do what has to be done, but don’t fight wars ain’t worth fighting” says Micah.  
“They want a parley?” asks Hosea, and now we all look at him.  
“It’s a trap” he adds.  
“Well off course, it’s probably a trap, but what have we got to lose finding out” replies Micah.   
“Get shot” says Arthur.  
“We ain’t getting shot because you’ll be protecting us. It’s a trap, you shoot the lot of them, if it ain’t a trap, that slim chance…”  
I can’t understand why Micah insists so much on this. What does he gains from the peace with the O’Driscoll? Dutch’s respect? He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want that. So, it must be something else.  
“I don’t see the point in any of this” says Dutch now walking to the table where Hosea and I are seated and laying his hands on it.   
He and Hosea then exchange a complicity look, just like Dutch is asking for support, or advice. What a strange couple are the two of them.  
“It’s a chance we gotta take” says Micah.  
It’s him I lay my eyes on while he comes closer with Arthur and Pearson. I really would like to ask him the reason for all this interest, but I don’t get the chance.  
“I killed Colm’s brother, long tome ago…” says Dutch.  
Hosea stands up to give him a deep look.  
“Then he killed… a woman I loved dear” he adds now moving his eyes on me.   
We stare at each other as I start to feel uncomfortable.   
The impression I had about him since the beginning was right: this man doesn’t forget anything. I can sense the loath, the sorrow, the thousands of unsaid things, and I feel sorry for the way I talked to him that day, for the things I said.  
“As you say, it’s a long time ago, Dutch” says Micah.  
Just like Arthur and Hosea, I don’t think all this thing is a good idea. It’s a too great danger. I move my eyes from Micah to Dutch hoping they won’t go. What a vain hope.  
“Let’s go, you and me, with Arthur protecting us, no-one else” orders Dutch pointing at Micah.   
To my surprise, Hosea doesn’t try to dissuade them and just sits down again.   
“What about me?” asks Pearson.   
“This ain’t the time for tigers, my friend” answers Dutch already heading to the horses.  
“Ahh… it was my idea” complains Pearson before going away and making me smile.   
Hosea takes his book and goes back to reading, but I can’t move my eyes from Dutch and Arthur’s backs.  
“What do you think?” I ask.  
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hosea putting down the book and looking away, thoughtful.  
“If it’s a trap they’ll know how to get away. It’s not the first time we have to deal with Colm and we always survived him. If they really want the peace… from now on the O’Driscolls won’t be a problem anymore.”  
I frown when I look at him.  
“Before you seemed sure it was a trap.”  
“You can never tell when we talk about Colm O’Driscoll” he replies standing up and going away, now leaving me with my thoughts.  
I try to reassure myself, telling that, if things should get bad, they’ll know how to hand it. After all, we escaped that mess in Valentine, the burning barn, and a lot of other difficult situations.   
I take again the pen in my hand and focus on the letter. I have to do this.

Dear Albert,  
It’s done. Those bastards are dead and we are finally free. And most importantly, I’m alive and not injured. I know how much you worry for me.   
I can’t say I had an easy week, but I’m starting to get over everything, this time for good I hope.   
What from now? That’s the question that I’ve been asking myself. What about my future? Until a few days ago I had no other purpose than revenge, but now I have to keep going, rebuild, decide what to do with the time I have left, should it be two days, or 50 years.   
But something I know for sure, I can’t come back home, I can’t try to restart in that same place that put a stop in my life. I will find another place to call home, maybe with new people.   
You know, we had ups and downs, but I’m really liking this group. With some of them I am… well, building something. Friendships. The only disadvantage: they are outlaws, but it won’t be like this forever. There’s a plan: start a new life in a new place, exactly what I’m looking for.  
This is a goodbye, Albert. I wish you all the luck and please, please go away from that ranch, as far away as possible. Find a girl, find a job, live your life. Maybe one day we’ll meet again. Maybe.   
Since then,   
sincerely yours,  
Fred.

I finish the letter, leave the pen on the table and take a deep breath. That’s the best thing to do. Our revenge was the only thing that was keeping us together, other than that we have nothing in common. It has always been like this, since I was desperately in love with his brother, who of course didn’t look at me twice. And I’m sure that this contact will be nothing good for him, only troubles, since I am a criminal in the eyes of the society.  
I lift my gaze from the paper and give a look around, spotting none the less than Charles in the distance walking right in my direction.   
As I start to feel nervous, I look down pretending not to have seen him and slowly fold my letter. If he believes I’m busy, maybe he won’t come close.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Oh! Charles!”   
Not at all fake and forced, well done you idiot.  
“I-I am, erm, was, writing a letter. Now I’m done and waiting for the ink to dry.”  
I add a nervous laugh, so that all the possibilities I had not to look like a mentally ill person are gone.  
“Who you’re writing to?” he asks sitting on the chair Hosea left empty and without apparently minding my awkwardness.   
“Albert. The boy I run with from the ranch.”  
He nods and a more than embarrassing silence falls, so I take the pen again and write the address on the letter.   
“You wanted to, err, ask me something?” I ask.  
He sighs deeply and gives me a look that makes me tremble.  
“I saw you were talking with Dutch and Hosea. They seemed…upset.”  
I smile when I understand what he means.   
“Don’t worry, I didn’t put myself into trouble again. Dutch, Arthur and Micah have gone to talk with the O’Driscolls. Pearson says they want the peace.”  
“Pearson said the O’Driscolls want the peace?” he asks frowning.  
“Yeah, I know, it sounds strange. And Hosea warned them it could be a trap.”  
“It is a trap.”  
“That’s why they were worried.”  
As silence falls again, I start to feel uncomfortable at his presence, very uncomfortable, and even though I’m looking away, I can feel his eyes burn on my skin.  
“Alright, if you have to go to town I’ll come with you. I need to do something, too” he says suddenly standing.  
I feel immediately relieved at the idea that I don’t have to sit here in silence, but the relief is immediately replaced by a new anxiety thinking that I have to spent more time alone with him. In any case, I find myself unable to say no.   
I stand and put the letter in my satchel. Then, we head to the horses and mount up. Walking out of the wood, we say “hi” to Bill who’s keeping watch and we take the road for Rhodes.  
“So, this Albert… he was a hand back at the ranch?” asks Charles out of nowhere  
“Err, yes. He and his brother helped my father.”  
“And you two were… I mean…”  
I feel a lump on my throat, just like someone was chocking me, and speaking has now become a great effort.  
“W-well, we were friends.”“Just friend?”  
“I-I… yes, just friends. Well, more like brother and sister. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”  
“Okay.”What the hell was that? He wants to know what kind of relationship I had with Albert? Why?   
A strange thought gets into my mind and makes my cheeks light up like torches, but I ignore it with all myself. What a stupid idea, come on!  
“About what Micah said yesterday… you don’t really think he was lying, do you?”  
At the beginning I’m a little confused by his sudden change of topic, but then I actually think deeply about his question.  
“No” I murmur. I’m the first who doesn’t believe in the accusations I made yesterday. Besides, Micah is right, even though I don’t want to admit it. I’ve been out of it recently.   
When we get to the post office, Charles waits outside with the horses as I send the letter. Then, I mount again on Isabella and we take again the path to camp, all to my great disbelieve.   
He said he had something to do, but what can it be if he’s heading back to camp? Maybe he doesn’t really have something to do and he just came to keep me company?  
“Uhm, isn’t it this way?” I say when we reach the crossroad and he takes the wrong road.  
“I have to go to the stable for Taima. She’s got some problems with one of her hooves.”Now I understand. The Rhodes stable isn’t in town, but a little bit north, almost near the place with all the caravans where Trelawny lived.   
This time it is my turn to wait outside while Charles talks to stable groom, who takes one of the hooves of Taima to check it and then shakes his head disapprovingly. When he walks out again, Charles is gloomy.  
“He says he must keep her for the night. So, if it’s not a problem, I’ll come back to camp with you.”  
With me? Does he mean… on Isabella? The both of us?  
I open my mouth, but close it right after without knowing what to say.   
“If you don’t want to, I can take one of his horses” he says.  
“NO.”  
My emphasis astonishes him and as I realize it I blush again.  
He clears his throat and takes a step in my direction.  
“Okay… move a little forward” he asks then putting both his hands on my saddle.   
I do as he says and take the foot out of the stirrup, so he can lift easily. The contact with his body makes me feel one hundred different things. My back immediately tenses as I can feel all the muscles of his chest way down until…  
I shake my head and push away all this stupid thoughts, trying to focus on something else.   
“C-can we go?” I ask in a whisper.  
“Yes” he answers and his deep voice makes me tremble. His mouth is so close I sense his hot breath on my neck and a shiver runs down my back.   
I spur Isabella but maybe I use too much strength because she jerks forward and Charles has to grab me not to fall down.  
“Sorry” I say with a strong desire to bury myself right now.  
“Don’t worry” he answers, but he doesn’t move his hands from my hips where he grabbed.  
His touch is strong but gentle at the same time. How is that possible? I would like to jump down Isabella and run as far away as possible, but at the same time I want him to do more, touch me more, I want to feel him all over me.   
I pull myself out of these crazy thoughts and make Isabella move taking the path back to camp.

“Hey! Who’s there?”  
“It’s us, Bill.”  
“What happened to your horse?”  
“I had to leave her at the stable.”  
Bill moves his eyes from Charles to me and a naughty smile appears on his face.  
“Oh, I understand” he says making me blush. Why am I not able to control myself in these situations?  
“Okay, thank you for the ride” says Charles as we both dismount.  
I just smile and turn around, hiding the embarrassment and my face, which I know it is as red as an apple right now.  
Only when I hear his footsteps going away I relax all the muscles of my body. That was a lot, truly a lot. I can’t keep feeling this way, I can’t keep making a fool of myself every single time.  
After I remove the saddle from Isabella and leave her to rest, I take a plate of stew and go sit next to the campfire. There, Kieran joins me and we spend some time talking until something in the distance catches my attention: Dutch and Micah are back.   
With a sigh of relief I keep looking in their direction, waiting for Arthur to appear from the wood any moment now. I wait, and wait, but when he doesn’t and I see Hosea walking towards them, I stand up to do the same.  
There’s something wrong. Why didn’t they come back all together? Where is Arthur? Why they have those worried faces?  
As I approach them, they stop talking to look at me.  
“Where’s Arthur?” I ask instinctively.   
Dutch and Hosea exchange a look and it seems to me that they don’t want to tell me, or maybe they were trying to keep the thing among them, but then I changed their plan.   
“We don’t know” says Dutch.  
“What?”  
“After our meeting they just let us go, but no trace of Arthur.”  
“Did you try to look for him?” I ask ironically.  
“What do you think? But we where on a plain, difficult to follow tracks there” he says annoyed as he walks away.  
“And what if they took him?” I ask following him.  
“He can take care of himself.”  
“What the fuck! You think that in your place he wouldn’t come looking for you?”  
My voice raised significantly and now I’m almost screaming, catching the attention of some other members of the group in the distance.  
Dutch stops and turns around to look at me.  
“And you give up on him so easily?” I add.  
“Listen…”  
“No, you listen to me. You can choose to cut him loose, but I won’t!”  
I turn around to head to the horses, but I find Micah on my way who grabs me from my wrist. This time he’s not smiling, he doesn’t have that usual mocking expression on his face, he is dead serious. Strange how he looks so different.  
“He came for you in that jail” I murmur, but somehow I already know that my words would have no effect on him, so I withdraw my arm and, when he doesn’t let me go I slap him, right in the face.   
He takes me with the other hand and squeezes me. I squirm in his hands hitting him wherever I can until some hands divide us, but I don’t know who it is and I don’t even stop to find out, running away as soon as I am free.  
I stop only when I reach the wood, hiding in there, among the trees, to breathe.  
How can they leave him like this? He might be in danger, he might be wounded, he might be in the O’Driscoll’s hands. If someone else had been captured, Dutch would have sent him immediately, but now that Arthur is the one into trouble, he doesn’t do anything, he doesn’t send anyone, he doesn’t even worry!  
“Fred.”  
With my back against the bark of the tree, I look up at Hosea.  
“He knows what he’s doing” he says.  
I scoff loudly.  
“If he does nothing there’s a reason.”  
“Yeah, right.”“Who said Arthur has been captured? Maybe he decided not to come back because he fears the O’Driscolls might follow him.”  
I shake my head dubiously.   
“I know him and I know he would follow the rules.”   
“But what if it’s not like you say? Huh? What if they took him?”  
“If they took him and in a couple of days he doesn’t show up, we’ll go look for him.”  
“A couple of days?”  
He stands there talking with a calmness that strikes me profoundly. The way he is talking it seems he doesn’t care either. He is a man, for God’s sake, not a dog that comes and goes how he likes and if he disappears we know he will find his way home sooner or later.   
“Hosea, they could kill him in a couple of days.”“Dutch believes…”  
“I don’t give a fuck about what Dutch believes. He thinks he knows everything? That he understands everything? But well… he’s not a fortune teller! How many people have already died because of what he believes?”  
Hosea stares at me and for the first time on his face I find a severity I’ve never seen before. He is frowning slightly, his eyes are cold, his traits are stiff.  
“He’s the boss, so you won’t do anything which it’s not a direct order from him. If you do, there will be consequences” he simply says turning his back at me to walk away.   
I freeze in my place. Of all the things I expected from him, a threat wasn’t one of those. 

They won’t stop me. This story is unacceptable and if no-one will do nothing because they’re too scared to disobey Dutch, I’ll do it then.   
I finish my morning coffee and head to the horses.   
“Miss! Are you getting busy this morning?” shouts Miss Grimshaw walking in my direction.  
“Not know!”I have more important things to do than her house chores. They won’t stop me, they won’t.  
As I cross the entire camp, I spot Bill, Charles and Javier seated all together, murmuring between them. They turn around as they see me from the distance and I look away quickly, focusing on what I have to do.  
I take the saddle and bring it to Isabella.   
“Hey, you going somewhere?” asks Charles walking closer with the others.   
I ignore him putting the saddle on my horse and tightening the strings.  
“If you’re heading to Rhodes we can go together. Javier will bring me to the stable to take Taima back.”  
I keep ignoring him, because I know what he is doing: he is trying to stop me, keep an eye on me, being sure that there is always someone with me and that I don’t do nothing stupid. That could be a problem… or maybe not.  
“I’ll bring you to the stable” I say turning around.  
He seems taken aback by my words and he looks at Javier as to ask him if for him it’s okay. Javier shrugs and walks away. Bill does the same leaving us alone.   
This could be my chance to move freely. If the rest of camp believes that I’m just taking Charles to the stable, they won’t ask any question and, if I’m able to convince him, Charles will let me go and look for Arthur, or maybe even come with me, to help me.  
“Do you have work to do when we get back?” he asks as we take the road to the stable.  
There it is. He’s not very subtle.   
“You know, Pearson asked me to hunt something so, if you don’t have things to do, you can come with me and practice.”  
“I won’t go back to camp, Charles, and I can’t come hunting with you.”  
My own cold voice surprises me. I don’t want to treat him like this, he doesn’t deserve it, but I hate this attempt to control me.  
“And, where will you go?” he asks keeping his voice calm and sweet, something that makes me feel even worse for using this rude ways with him.  
I sigh. I have no escape from this. I don’t want to hurt him, I don’t want to lie to him.   
“Looking for Arthur.”  
“Listen. If Dutch said ‘no' there must be a reason. He doesn’t cut people loose like this.”  
He could be right, they all could be right, but the idea that Dutch is wasting time doesn’t leave me.  
“So, why he rescued Micah right away?” I ask.  
When he doesn’t answer I understand he doesn’t know that either.   
I stop in front of the stable and let Charles get down. When he disappears inside, I look around. There isn’t a single soul. I could go, right now, with no-one to stop me. And I’ll cover my tracks so Charles won’t follow me.  
I glance at the stable door, still closed. I wonder… How will he react when he’ll come out and won’t find me here? What will he think? That I’m reckless, stupid, childish, too stubborn?   
Do I really care about what he thinks of me? And what if… What if he’ll be disappointed in me? Again, do I care? Yes, of course I care. I don’t want him to think this of me. I want him to be proud of me, but I want to go looking for Arthur too, even if it is stupid.   
The door opens and Charles comes out leading Taima. I wasted my chance, but I guess I’d never have gone away without him.   
“I thought I wouldn’t find you” he says mounting up.  
“Maybe, if it wasn’t you, I would have left.”  
The expression on his face makes me aware of my own words and I immediately look away.  
What the hell! What happened? Why did I say that?  
“So, we head back?”  
I scoff. He really doesn’t want to to give up. But neither do I.  
“If you want to go back, you can, I have to go looking for him.”  
Just like he knew what my answer would be, he sighs and nods.  
“Alright. Micah said they where north of the Scarlett Meadows. It’s this way” he says leading the way.  
I must say, I’m surprised that he decided to let it go, and even come with me in the end. Maybe he wants to look for Arthur too after all, maybe he knows I’m right about Dutch.  
We ride silently and when we reach the spot we start looking for tracks, but Dutch was right: the grass is too tall and now, a day after the meeting, those few tracks they might have left are completely gone.   
It’s pointless, utterly useless, impossible. Charles must have known, I’m sure he did, and he followed me anyway. God, I do feel stupid now.   
As last wish before we leave, we climd a little hill that overlooks on the entire plain and from there I study the field all around, hoping I don’t know for what, a sign, a miracle, the Lord’s hand that points me to the right direction.   
Charles is right behind me, and I know he is looking at me, I can feel his judging eyes on my back.  
“Let’s get back. I’ll ask Dutch or Micah or anyone who knows something about the fucking O’Driscolls if they have any idea where they could be holed up” I say. My voice is shaking.   
“I won’t abandon him like everybody else is doing.”  
“No-one is abandoning him” answers Charles.   
I turn around feeling sorry for my words.  
“I-I didn’t mean you, Charles, but… look how everybody else is acting. And don’t come and tell me you didn’t notice, because it’s not true! He was there for Sean, for Micah, and no-one wants to save him, now.”“That’s not true. Listen… you have to calm down. How you can see, it’s not easy, he could be anywhere.”  
I run my hands through my hair. Why is it so difficult for him to understand the reason of my concern?   
“And… and what if they know but they don’t tell us? I-i-if they don’t want us to rescue him?”  
“Hey, that’s enough” he says getting closes and grabbing my shoulders forcing me to look at him.  
“Calm. Down. We’ll find something. I know Dutch from some time now and I’m sure he’ll do anything he can for Arthur. Like he always says: have faith.”“I don’t trust Dutch.”  
The words come out just like I was spitting on the ground. That’s the truth and I’ve never tried to deny that. I don’t trust him, never had and never will.   
“Trust me then.”  
My heart loses a beat. I want to say something, I have the need to say something to make him understand that I already trust him, that I feel I can put my life in his hands, because I know he will take care of it.   
It al happens so fast I barely have the strength to keep control of my body. His eyes move on my lips for a second, just a fast movement of his irises, before looking right in my eye again, and that’s all it takes to make something change inside of me.   
Suddenly, I desperately need to touch him, to kiss him, and I lean forward, searching for the contact, my hands want to grab his hair, my lips to touch his skin, I want to feel him, taste him, love him.   
But in the end, just when I’m about to do it, I blink and turn around, away from him, breathing heavily.   
What life? What love? What future? Always on the run. Outlaws. Death around every corner. These words echo in my mind, together with his steps as he walks away from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Hello!  
> Sooo, I don't know how you feel towards Dutch, but me personally, If he looked at me the same way he did with Fred, I would be scared, honestly. I mean he seems one of those man capable of everything when they are angry.  
> I just love the end of this chapter. Here I would react in a different way, too. I would never run from Charles the way she did, but she's scared of feelings because she's afraid to lose the people she loves, again.  
> Anyway, I hope you liked it and... see you soon!


	19. Safe and Sound

Needless to say that since our return to camp, I’ve been at the mercy of a thousand of different emotions. Anger, anxiety and frustration rise in me every time I think about Arthur. Then, it happens that Charles finds his way inside my mind, and so embarrassment and confusion take the lead.   
What should I do? What can I do? Even working with Miss Grimshaw doesn’t help to get me distracted and at dinner time, I sit with Kieran at the scout fire, with the same chaos inside.   
“I’m surprised you’re still here.”  
Micah. Even here, even now he finds the chance to tease me.   
“What do you mean?” I ask coldly.  
“Well, I thought that, after what you said, Dutch would have kicked you out. After all, we don’t know what to do with a stupid rebel girl who causes troubles every day” he says with a mischievous smile.  
A provocation. Of course. What else can he do?  
“Well it seems that Dutch knows. After all, he keeps you with him” I reply.  
We stare at each other and from his eyes I can see he’s not done yet. He wants another kind of reaction.  
“One day, he will have enough of you. Everybody here will have enough of you and your dramas. And then I’ll watch you…”  
I stop listening to him. There is someone coming out of the woods: a man at horseback, and he doesn’t seem to be well.  
“Arthur!” I exclaim jerking up.  
I run towards him and as I do so he slips down from the saddle. My heart sinks. I knew it! I knew something was wrong. I could feel it!  
“Hey, hey Arthur… a-are you okay?” I say kneeling down next to him and taking his head in my hands.   
The only answer I receive is a grunt. His eyes are closed, his forehead covered in cold sweat and his shirt stained with dried blood.   
More footsteps behind me make me understand some people are coming to help me.   
“Arthur…”  
“Arthur?”  
It’s Dutch, and when Arthur hears his voice, he comes back to his conscience.   
“I told you it was a set up, Dutch” he mumbles.  
“My boy, my dear boy, what?”  
“They got me… but I got away.”  
“Yeah, that you did. Miss Grimshaw, I need help! Let’s lift him” orders Dutch kneeling next to me.  
“He was gonna set the law on us” says Arthur with a grimace of pain when we sit him up.  
“Oh, of course he was.”  
“Arthur, oh I’m sorry Arthur” says Mr. Pearson showing up.  
“It’s a bit late for apologies” replies Dutch and his words annoy me, even though I try not to show it.  
“Let’s get him to bed” orders Miss Grimshaw when she reaches us.  
I lift him from one arm, Pearson takes the other and we drag him to his tent, leaning him gently on his cot.  
“You are safe now, Arthur… you’re safe now” Dutch keeps saying.  
“Miss Grimshaw, will you sit with him a while?” he asks then lowering his voice and addressing the woman.   
“Of course. You’ll be okay, Mr. Morgan, you’re home” she replies taking a chair.  
Again, Dutch and I exchange a look before he goes away. Turning around to follow him with my eyes I also notice everybody else left too.   
“What do I do?” I ask to Miss Grimshaw.  
“Take some fresh water and boil some other. Clean rags, then. Lots of them. Ask the girls to help you. We have to clean the wound.”  
I nod trying to remember everything and then I go, as fast as I can, first to the girls tent where I find Karen and Mary Beth whispering between them. I ask for the rags, but they look at me with an unhelpful attitude that makes the blood boil in my veins. Even in a moment like this they have to remind me that they don’t like me?  
“For God’s sake, Arthur’s wounded! Please!”  
They realize their behavior is childish and stupid, or at least that’s what I like to think, and move away to find what I asked them.  
“Mr. Pearson! I need you to light a fire.”  
He stands up from the kitchen table where he is seated with a thoughtful expression and, staring at him more carefully, I also notice his eyes are shiny. Poor Mr. Pearson, he feels guilty for what happened, and Dutch’s rebuke didn’t help, but it’t not his fault, because it wasn’t his decision to take.  
“What’s going on?”  
I turn around and meet Charles’s worried look.   
“It’s Arthur, he is… back, but he isn’t well.”  
“What you need?”  
Always so helpful and caring.  
“Water. Two buckets.”  
He leaves without a word and ten minutes later I have everything I need under Arthur’s tent.  
“Let’s take off his clothes” says Miss Grimshaw.  
My jaw drops and I move my incredulous eyes from her to Arthur’s body.  
“Come on we don’t have all day” she urges me.  
I reach the head of the bed and start opening the buttons of Arthur’s shirt. I’m so stupid, of course we have to take off his clothes if we want to clean the wound. Anyway, the idea of seeing him naked, or even half naked, makes me feel uncomfortable, like I am violating his privacy.  
Miss Grimshaw helps me to lift him so to undress his shoulders and what I see makes me shiver. He has bruises, a lot of bruises, all over his chest and belly, just like they punched and kicked him and on his left shoulder there’s the wound from where all the blood comes from.   
“The bullet isn’t here, good. I go take some wire. You start clean him with some hot water” says Miss Grimshaw looking closer at the wound before going away.  
Just on time, Charles brings the other bucket full on hot water and I put myself to work, gently passing the clean rags on his body and especially on the wound. He’s lost so much blood.   
“Well, I see he’s in good hands” says Charles, and before he leaves I turn around to murmur a “thank you”.  
Miss Grimshaw comes back with a wire and a needle, sewing the flesh with some clean and precise stitches. When she’s done, we take some of the longer rags and put them all around the wound, blocking his arm, so he can’t move it while he’s passed out.   
“If the temperature rises, use the fresh water on his forehead, neck and wrists” she says washing her hands in the warm water.  
“How do you know all these things?” I ask before she goes away.  
For the first time since I’ve met her, a smile appears on her lips, a melancholic smile, a smile that tastes like past and better times, or maybe worse times, considering who we are talking about.   
“Experience” she murmurs.  
I take the chair she was using before and sit next to Arthur, checking my watch. It’s a couple of hours past midnight. The rest of the camp is silent and deserted. They all disappeared on us.   
I move my eyes to Dutch’s tent, a few yards from Arthur’s, wondering if he’s sleeping. It’s all dark inside, so I can’t tell, but the rage I’ve been repressing since Arthur came back is now rising againg, making me tighten my teeth.   
While he’s there, sleeping peacefully, Arthur here is fighting for his life and it’s all his fault. He accused poor Mr. Pearson but we all know it was him who decided to go.  
“It’s a bit late for apologies.”  
I should have said something back then, something to defend Pearson, something that would have embarrassed Dutch in front of everybody for sure, and that would put me in trouble for sure, but I should have.   
I realize that I’m squeezing my jaw so much that now it’s hurting, and I take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself. Then, Miss Grimshaw comes back telling me to go to bed, but I insist on staying here.   
At Arthur’s feet there’s a blanket I take to cover him, and then I reach out a hand to touch his forehead, but I don’t feel any temperature. My hand lingers on his head for a while, stroking his blonde and sweaty hair.  
I could feel something was wrong. I don’t know how, but I just could and I was so worried, and now I am so angry that Dutch didn’t look for him that day. And me, I had to insist, scout the area and check the cabins. If I had done so, he wouldn’t be here.  
There is something I can’t stop thinking about, though: that day, that awful day I wished him death. All this could perfectly be my fault after all. Maybe someone up there listened to my wish and made this happen and now…  
I lay one arm on the table next to me without moving my eyes from him.  
Now I feel… guilty.

“Fred.”  
I jump and immediately close my eyes again when the sun light hits me.  
“W-what?”  
“Why don’t you take some coffee?” asks Abigail.  
I open my eyes very very slowly and the first thing I see is Arthur, laying exactly where I left him, with Miss Grimshaw dabbing his forehead.   
“How is he?” I ask stretching my hurting back.  
“The temperature is rising and he hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”  
“Is he in danger?”   
My right shoulder hurts too when I stand up and some fingers have fallen asleep.  
“I don’t think so, but we have to keep an eye on him.”  
I walk to the kitchen with Abigail and there Mr. Pearson greets us with a disconsolate “morning”.   
“You don’t have to feel guilty, Mr. Pearson” I reassure him.  
“It was my fault” he murmurs.  
“No, it wasn’t. The fault is…”  
After all the things I’ve already done and said, is it wise to accuse Dutch?  
“…on that bastard of Colm O’Driscoll. And all his goddamn flunkies” I end.  
My following attempts to cherish him don’t work either. This man is way sadder than he looks and he also has a great sensibility, more than it appears on the outside.  
I spend the entire morning by Arthur’s side and witness all the members who come and check on him. Bill surprises me, when he awkwardly draws closer to murmur something like “get well soon, Arthur.” They all come, all of them, except Dutch and Micah. From time to time I get up to check Arthur’s breathing and heart beat and I take the opportunity to look at the camp and try and spot one of them. Miss O’Shea spent the entire day in her tent, but no Dutch there. Micah disappeared as well.   
After lunch Mary-Beth takes my place so that I can rest a little, but my mind is always next to his bed. I know that if something happens I want to be there to help. I feel the need to help. So I soon go back to Arthur’s tent and that is when I finally see him, Dutch, talking to Mary-Beth. I walk closer quietly so to listen to them without been seen.   
“…I really don’t know what to say, it’s… it’s terrible. If I could go back, I swear to you, I wouldn’t let anything of this happen” he’s saying.  
“It’s not your fault, Dutch” replies Mary Beth.  
“I know but… I feel like it was me who put him in danger somehow.”  
I snort and approach them, putting a stop to their stupid conversation. Mary-Beth is way to naive to deal with this. I walk past Dutch, pretending he’s not here and get to Arthur’s bed side.   
“You can go Mary Beth. Tell Miss Grimshaw everything’s okay” I say.  
As she goes away I exchange look with Dutch, who now is standing there like a codfish. I ignore him and take a clean rag that I put in the fresh water to dab Arthur’s forehead.   
“You’ve been here all night and all day. Why don’t you go and rest a little?” says Dutch with no trace of kindness in his voice.  
“I don’t need rest.”  
“I see. You think you’re his savior, don’t you? The one who looked for him, the one who stayed by his side all the time. What do you think he’ll do when he gets up? Huh? Ask you to marry him?”  
“You don’t know me if you think I do this to have something back.”  
“And for what then? The human being is naturally egoist. We don’t give anything for anything. Unless…”  
I glance at him, but I don’t react at the provocation. “Ahh… you feel guilty? And for what? It’s wasn’t you who sent him to the O’Driscolls” he adds.  
“No, in fact, that was you. So I don’t understand why you’re not in my place right now.”  
He sighs and looks away.  
“I love him like a son, but I don’t try to prove it breathing down his neck all day.”  
“No, you prove it leaving him to the O’Driscolls.”  
“What you don’t understand is that I have responsibilities towards all the members of this group and I would have never put some other lives in danger for a man I knew could take care of himself.”  
“You didn’t need the others. I was enough.”  
A moment of silence falls between us as we stare at each other again.   
“And you think your life isn’t as important as the others’?”  
It takes me a couple of seconds to understand what he just said. Does he think I’ll fall for it? That I’m going to believe he values my life? That he actually cares about me, a complete stranger?  
I laugh at his face, a forced and sarcastic laugh that I can perfectly see annoys him even further, so much that he finally decides to go away, leaving me with the guilt and the need of repentance.  
It’s been two days now, and Arthur’s fever doesn’t go down. We tried to make him drink some water and eat some food, but without success. Even though he comes back every now and then, he can’t even keep his eyes open. During the night we check on him in turn, but even when it’s not my turn, I can’t sleep a lot.  
It’s the third night. It’s like I’m counting them: the days, the hours, maybe also the minutes Arthur is on that bed.  
I’m seated near the campfire, darkness and silence around me. It must be around midnight and everyone is already sleeping. Tilly is with Arthur. The next turn is Karen’s, but I think I’ll take her place. If I can’t sleep, at least I’ll do something useful.  
I look up when I hear some footsteps and I narrow my eyes trying to understand who that shape in the darkness could be.   
“Oh, Charles” I murmur when he reaches the fire.  
“I thought everyone was sleeping.”  
“Almost. You can’t?” he asks sitting next to me.  
“No.”  
“You still worried?”  
I sigh and look at the red flames. I don’t know why, but stay near the fire and studying the shapes in the flames is something that helps me relaxing and concentrating. Anyway, right now, I don’t know where to start to make him understand. Honestly, I don’t even want to talk about it, but it’s Charles, so I will try.  
“It ain’t… it ain’t just Arthur. I can’t take Dutch off my head. We talked, you know? And he said he didn’t want to rescue Arthur because he knew he could take care of himself, and he made a whole discourse about the responsibility he has towards the members of this group and other bullshit. And when I said I was enough to rescue him…ah…he tried to convince me that my life is important for him as well as the others’. That man is unbelievable. He thinks he can make me change my mind with some good word? And I…I should have kept looking for Arthur. I should have insisted. If I did maybe…maybe he wouldn’t be like this now. I had to try harder.”  
When I’m done, I look up at Charles and as our eyes meet all the memories of that day come back to me. The way we talked, the way we looked…  
“I don’t think Dutch was lying. Give him another chance. Maybe you just got the wrong idea about him. And… about that day…” he says and moves a little closer on the log where we are seated.  
The contact of our bodies makes me shiver and I start to wonder what are his intentions.  
“You and I, we did anything we could. What has been, has been. You can’t change that” he adds.  
I smile. He always tries to cheer me up, he’s so sweet, so thoughtful, so…  
Without being aware of it, I’m moving closer to him, and he’s doing the same, so close that now I can barely breathe. All I want to do is touch him, here, now.  
“Fred.”  
We both turn around at the same moment to look at Tilly. She moves her eyes from me to Charles and then back at me and I can see she’s restraining a smile.   
Oh Lord, the embarrassment.  
“Do I have to wake up Karen?” she asks.  
“No, there’s no need, let her sleep. I’ll go” I reply standing up.  
She nods briefly before turning around to go away.  
“G-goodnight, Charles” I mumble and walk away without being able to look at him again. 

If there is something in this place that I love, it’s the dawn. Watch the sun coming out of the lake and all the different shades of color and lights that sparkle on the water, always makes me feel like everything is fine. Then, when the magic ends, I go back to reality and become aware that things aren’t fine. They could definitely be worse, though.  
Arthur’s temperature finally dropped and we all waited impatiently for him to wake up: he slowly opened his eyes, coughed, mumble something incomprehensible and closed them again. It wasn’t much, but it was something.   
Some hours after, we’ve been able to make him eat and drink some water. When he’s been able to sit up, Dutch came to talk to him, but I wasn’t there. Now that he doesn’t need constant attentions, I can go back to work and so I couldn’t hear the great speech I’m sure he did about how much he was worried about him and blah blah blah.  
The next morning, though, I’m the first to say him good morning as I bring him some breakfast. Miss Grimshaw says he’ll get better fast, but he needs to regains his strength.  
“What?” I ask worried when he makes a grimace of pain.  
“This goddamn shoulder.”  
“You have to thank that they didn’t aim a little bit lower. With a hole in your lung you wouldn’t be able to breath.”  
“They didn’t want to kill me. They wanted to use me as bait so they could take Dutch when he would have come to save me.”  
I snort loudly.   
“Their waiting was vain, then.”  
He grunts and gives me a severe look.   
“Okay so… he told you. What do you think?”  
“You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have disobeyed him. Dutch knows what he does, and he’s right.”  
“But…”  
“Always.”  
I sigh and look away.  
“I can take care of myself. I always have. He knows me and I know him and I know he wasn’t cutting me loose.”  
“Okay.”  
We exchange another look and I notice the severity in his eyes has almost disappeared, leaving behind something sweeter that I think to be thankfulness.   
“Now, if I can give you and advise, you better find a way to apologize to him” he says in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> I've always wondered what happens during those weeks or days that we don't see during the game. Like at the beginning, when they get to Valentine and we start playing "two weeks later", or here, when Arthur is wounded and they make us wait "two weeks".  
> NO! I want to see how he heals! Let me see who takes care of him and how!  
> So I've made it up. I hope you've understood what's the difference between what she feels for Charles and what she feels for Arthur. It's a slight difference, but very important.  
> I hope you liked it!  
> See you soon!


	20. Peace Offering

Arthur is finally able to stand up, but he still can’t ride or shoot, so he can’t move from camp, even less work. This means everybody else is getting busy to find something big, maybe something about the Braithwaites or the Grays. Hosea told me more about them and he also said he believes both families own some kind of fortune.  
In a moment of pure boredom, I volunteered to go to the city and find something about the Grays; after all, apart from that mess at the saloon, I haven’t caused any more troubles in town, so they shouldn’t recognize me and acquire some information shouldn’t be hard.   
Hosea approved and he also said he’s happy that I’m doing my best for the gang. I think what he really meant is that this is a good start to try and get even with Dutch. When I get to Rhodes, the town is half deserted. I leave the belt with the revolver on Isabella before taking a walk through town.   
Maybe it’s because of the scorching heat of the last few days if the citizens decided to stay home. But, if most of the people chose not to venture on the streets, this doesn’t apply to the elder ones, who decided to challenge the high temperatures and go sit under the shadow of the shops, talking amiably between them. Age makes reckless, my mother aways said that.  
They are my target. Who knows better the secrets of the place and of the families who live here if not them? Besides, I’ve already done this in Valentine and it doesn’t seem difficult to get the favor of the local people. If Dutch did it…  
The first man who gets my attention is an old war veteran, seated in front of the general store, but I don’t have to catch any attention and talk with the first man I meet could make the other people suspicious, so I keep walking.  
I walk past houses and stores, pass the sheriff’s office and greet a man who should be his deputy. I follow the main road until I see five men seated down the porch of a house, playing poker. It could be my chance: a passerby, curious about their game, who stops to talk with them.   
I approach the table and observe silently, waiting for one of them to raise his eyes and ask me something.  
“Can we help you?”  
Bait taken.  
“Me?” I ask faking surprise. I must look stupid, so they will treat me in consequence and it will be easier to make them talk.   
“Yes, you. Can we help you?”  
The others, distracted from their game, look up at me too, some curious, some annoyed, some not even aware of the presence of a stranger, if their friend hadn’t made them notice.   
“Oh! No, no, don’t stop playing. I’m just curious. You know, I never learned how to play. Actually, I’m not good with numbers. You know, my father died when I was a child and my mom, she helped me with the letters and the numbers, but she wasn’t good either so…”  
I let out a childish and naive laugh.  
“I think I’m a little bit like her” I say in the end.  
“Clearly… well if you want you can take a seat and watch it closer” says the man looking at me with a snooty gaze.  
I seize the opportunity. I show interest to one of the most boring plays I’ve ever seen. The one with the round glasses is obviously bluffing, the one next to him is trying, but without success, and the only one who actually has good cards doesn’t seem to know. In the end wins the bald one with a stroke of luck that makes him gain 3,45 $.   
Yep, exciting. Anyway, I congratulate with him and in exchange he asks me about my family. I start making up a heartbreaking past that could push them to feel piety for me and it seams it works because they actually trust me so much that hey start telling me about the city, about the Grays and their enemies, the Braithwaites.  
“These Grays, they seem to be fine people” I say when the oldest finishes the story of how the feud started, a story that I believe to be more legend than truth.  
“They are, indeed. And their fortune is the prove of it. You know what they say: God helps those who help themselves. And they deserved all the good they received.”  
“They must have a really big house” I say naively.  
“Well, yes. But fortune also means…uh, property and gold…” explains the man with round glasses. Former banker, maybe?  
“And they have it?” I ask again.  
“I think so. Or at least, voices get around and they say both the Braithwaites and the Grays have a lot of money. And they also say that a big part of that money disappeared with two of them.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“A Braithwaite woman and a Gray man, years ago, they say they run away. Puff… disappeared. Some think they’re in England right now, some others think they’re dead.”  
“I wonder how they can keep all that money under their beds” I say.  
“Sorry, what?”  
“The money. You said they have plenty so… how can they keep them under the mattress, isn’t it dangerous? For thieves.”  
The table cracks up in a loud laugh.   
“They don’t keep them under the mattress, you silly girl!” shouts the one with the mustache among the laughs.  
“And where then?”  
“In the bank, of course. Or in hidden places. Places only them know.”  
“So you don’t know where they are?”  
“Of course we don’t. If we did, we wouldn’t be here waisting our time in finding out how little your brain is!”  
The table laughs again.  
Pretending not to have understood their insult, I find an excuse to leave. While I return to Isabella, I can still hear them laughing at my back.   
Who laughs last, laughs best, assholes.

When I’m back to camp I look for Hosea, ready to tell him about my latest discoveries. I find him at the table under the big tree.  
“You found something?” he asks.  
“Both families have a lot of money and they keep it half in the bank and half in some hidden places. But I can’t assure you this is the truth, maybe they’re just voices. My source isn’t certain” I explain sitting opposite to him.   
“In the bank, huh?” he says scratching his chin thoughtfully.   
Uh-oh, I think I know what that expression means.  
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Considering who keeps the money there, the bank will be well guarded.”  
“You’re talking about banks?” asks Dutch showing up from nowhere.  
“Maybe we found something. The Grays and the Braithwaites could keep their money there” answers Hosea.  
“But, I’m not sure. What if I’m wrong?” I say.  
“We’ll check before doing anything” replies Hosea.  
He seems sure of what he does and says and I want to trust him. Now, I look at Dutch. We need his confirm before we act.  
“Alright, do it.”

Yesterday, Hosea and I went back to Rhodes and paid a visit to the bank. We checked the doors, number of guards, we went inside and asked to open an account for Tacitus Kilgore. While Hosea talked with the boy behind the glass trying to understand if the two families actually have some money in the bank, I wandered around the room and tried to memorize all the important details. When we came back to camp we called some other members of the group and started to organize the heist.  
There are five guards, two outside, three inside. The employees are three. The doors are two, the front one and the back one. The best moment to act is at noon when two of the five guards leave for around half an hour to make a pause at the saloon.   
“Great, I think it will be you, Bill, Javier and Miss Faraday here who found the job” says Dutch to Hosea when we inform him of the plan.  
“Me?” I ask bewildered.  
“What’s the problem?”   
“I’ve never done anything like this. I-I don’t know where to start.”  
“It’s easy. You put the bandana on and threat people with your gun” replies Dutch with a voice that doesn’t allow a ‘no’ as an answer.  
I nod resigned and we keep double-checking the plan. It seems I have no escape from this.  
“He wants you to do it. This will be your peace offering” Hosea whispers in my ear, but I had already understood it.  
Peace offering. The first and last one I hope.

The morning after I prepare all the necessary for the job: I clean and recharge the gun, I saddle up Isabella and I take the rifle John gave me, hoping that I won’t have to use it.  
“So, it’s true.”  
I turn around and smile at Arthur. It’s so good to see him up, even if his arm is still bandaged.   
“What’s true?”  
“That you’re going to rob a bank with Hosea.”  
“You jealous?” I joke.  
“Ahh… just a little.”  
I laugh, but soon return serious. I would feel much better if he were to come with me. Safer, for sure. Instead I have Javier and Bill.   
“Something’s wrong?” he asks.  
“I’ve never robbed a bank and I don’t know if I’m capable to do that. What if something goes wrong?”  
“There’s always something that goes wrong in this kind of jobs, especially when Bill is involved.”  
Well, this doesn’t make me feel good at all, and he must notice that too, because he changes attitude.  
“Hosea knows what he’s doing, Javier is smart and Bill, he’s an idiot yes, but he can fight. And you can handle it, I know it. Everything will be fine” he says reassuringly. Yes, this is the Arthur that I like.   
“What a pity that you can’t come with us” I say looking at him right in the eye.  
His face gets an awkward expression that he tries to hide behind a laugh.  
“So I have to stand Bill and all the mess he’ll do? Nah thanks, I think I’ll stay here” he jokes.   
“Arthur I…”  
I’d like to tell him that I’m sorry for what happened to him, that I still feel guilty, that to me he’s become a friend, despite everything, despite what he is and what he’s done.  
“Just… try to rest, okay?” I say and turn around to mount on Isabella.

When we reach the entrance of Rhodes, Hosea gives us the last directions. We separate from Bill and Javier who have to take care of the guard at the entrance and to check the perimeter of the bank. Our job is to distract the employees until they join us and then to make them open the vault where there must be the safes of the Braithwaite and Gray families.   
We reach the bank, get down our horses and go inside greeting the only guard at the entrance. The boy behind the glass recognizes us and gives us a broad smile.  
“Mr. Kilgore, Miss Kilgore, welcome back. How can I help you?”  
“Alec, my dear boy. Yesterday I talked with some friends and they gave me some doubts about the account we opened. Can you give me some explanations?” says Hosea walking to the counter.  
I let the two of them discuss and take a tour of the room. On the other side of the counter there is just another employee today, apart from Alec. Good. The less people see our faces the better. The two guards are one seated on a chair near the vault and one standing next to the back door, just as usual.  
Time passes and there’s no trace of Javier and Bill. Hosea almost finished the excuses to entertain the boy, who starts to show some impatience.  
“Yes, sir. As I already told you…”  
He can’t even finish the sentence. We hear a loud bang that echoes inside the room and the back door opens showing Bill who, with his face covered, the rifle in his hands and heavy steps, goes near the guard and hits him in the face making him pass away without breaking a sweat. The other one, who was half asleep, jumps on his chair and takes out his gun, aiming at Bill. Readily, I take my revolver and hit him on the head making him fall on the ground.  
“You don’t want to do that, son” I hear Hosea saying and when I turn around I see he’s pointing his pistol at Alec.  
The other employee, scared to death, runs from behind the counter, aiming to the door that Bill left open, but he can’t step outside that Javier, his face covered too, blocks his way and punches him right on the nose. Screaming, the employee brings his hands to his face and steps back until he reaches Bill who slams him against the wall and whispers an angry: “You stay there.”  
It all happens so fast and so swiftly, that I just stay here and look at them like it is a scene in a play.   
“Okay, boy. Why don’t you open the safes of the Braithwaite and Gray family?” says Hosea to Alec, now covering his face with the bandana.  
“I-I don’t… have t-the authorization to…”  
“I don’t care about your authorization, just open them.”  
“N-no you d-don’t understand. I-I don’t have t-the combinations.”  
“Shit!” swears Bill.  
“Calm down, we’ll find a way. Who has these combinations?”  
“The d-deputy manager. Usually he’s here, but t-today he said he wasn’t well.”  
“Where does he live?”  
“J-just around the corner and then down the street, at number three. He’s name is Miller. Robert Miller.”  
“Mr. E., Mr. W., go get him. Kindly! We don’t want to draw unrequited attentions” orders Hosea.  
“Don’t you think it’s better if one of us stays here? Just in case something happens and you need a… man with you” says Javier glancing at me.  
When I understand what he means, I get a little upset, but then I think that an old man and a girl couldn’t handle an army of men, if one shows up.  
“You’re right. Miss Kilgore you go with Mr. E. and bring Miller here” replies Hosea.  
I follow Javier through the door and on the street. Pulling down his bandana, he leads the way with a fast and nervous pace that forces me to run to keep up.  
“Relax, we don’t have to catch the eye of the citizens. Just slow up a…”  
“The sooner we end this, the better” he snaps.  
“Hey, we’re here together. Don’t think I like what we’re doing.”“If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be here.”“What the hell are you talking about? You can’t blame me if that idiot doesn’t know the combinations!”  
He snorts and keeps walking while I pant to follow his pace. I hate him when he’s like this.  
We have almost reached the end of the road when two men come out from around the corner and walk in our direction.   
At first I tense up when I see they are armed, but then their calm attitude makes me understand they are just taking a walk, so we don’t need to worry about them. But Javier apparently doesn’t share my opinion because he slows up, takes me from my shoulders and drags me inside a little side street, pushing me against the wall.  
I let out a moan of complain when I hit my shoulders.  
“I think they’ve seen us” I say annoyed.  
“They could recognize us if we get too close” he replies with his eyes fixed on the main street where the shadows of the two men are getting bigger.  
“So you don’t think they will get curious to know why we’re hiding here?”  
He looks at me. He just realized he’s done more damage this way, because now they are suspicious. At least I think he did realize, I hope he did.  
The footsteps of the two men are getting closer, we have little time to decide what to do.   
“Follow my lead” he says and then…   
I feel the weight of his entire body on me and his lips on my neck. Shocked by the sudden contact, I feel the need to push him away, but then, I hear the two men really close to us and, closing my eyes and repressing the instinct to withdraw, I put my arms around him.   
His lips are leaving a wet trace on my skin, he’s teeth are nibbling my flesh, his hands are all over me. In another situation, with someone else, this would be pleasant, but now, with him, it’s just… disgusting.   
After an endless time, he stops whatever he is doing and turns towards the street to check on the two men. In the meantime I try to recover, breathing heavily and blinking to clear my mind.   
“Good, we can go” he says and looks back at me. I expect he to move, to go away, to give back to me that personal space he took away so unexpectedly and vehemently, but he doesn’t.  
He keeps staring at me and just when I thought the worst had gone, he throws himself again against me and this time his target are my lips. I jerk my head just in time and close my eyes tight, so that the only thing I feel is his kiss on my cheek.  
I stay here, frozen in my place as he lets out a sigh of frustration and finally moves away. Still, I don’t move. I don’t have the strength. How many times? How many times do I have to reject him to make him understand?   
When I find again the courage, I open my eyes and realize that I’m actually alone in the little alley. With my heart pounding, I walk back to the main road.   
Javier stopped in front of a house, leaning on the stairs railing and giving his back at me.  
“This is it. Go take him” he says with a hatred voice when I reach him.  
“What? Me, alone? What if there’s someone else inside?”  
“You deal with him.”That’s enough.  
“Listen, if you want to put at risk the entire job for a personal thing between you and me, I’m sorry, but I won’t allow you” I say placing myself in front of him.  
“What personal thing?” He scoffs looking away.  
“Now you’re acting like a child, Javier. You go inside there with me or we go back to Hosea and tell him why we don’t have the deputy.”  
Finally, his eyes meet mine and with another scoff he climbs the stairs. He covers his face right before knocking at the door, and I follow his example.   
A man on his sixties, clear eyes, grey hair, opens the door. He’s wearing a nightshirt, rather ridiculous I must say, and his nose is red.   
“Who are you? What do you want?” he asks with a nasal voice.  
Without answering, Javier points his gun to his head and makes him go back. I get inside and close the door behind me.  
We ask him if he’s alone and when he confirms we tell him why we’re here. Javier takes him to the other room and makes him dress up and he does everything we ask without complaining or rebelling. Maybe he doesn’t want to die for some money that don’t even belong to him.  
“Okay, friend. Now, try not to do anything stupid” says Javier putting the gun away and opening the door.  
We walk back to the bank expecting any kind of trouble, but nothing happens, and I am glad of that.  
“Why it took you so much?” complains Bill when we enter from the back door.  
“Mr. Miller! Please, after you” says Hosea coming out of the opened vault.  
When the two of them disappear inside, I look around. Alec is seated on the ground with his back against the wall, tied and gagged. The other employee, right next to him seems to be passed out.  
“This idiot son of a bitch wanted to die” says Bill grabbing his hair to show the man’s face. He has a deep cut on his left eyebrow, but nothing more.  
“He tried to take my rifle, can you imagine that?” laughs Bill.  
What a fool, trying to take the rifle from a big man like him.  
“If the old man hadn’t stopped me, he would probably be dead.”  
“Mr. E. Come help me. Mr. W. You tie this one too” orders Hosea from inside the vault pushing out the deputy.   
Javier walks in while Bill ties the man’s hands behind his back and makes him sit next to the others.  
“Okay, that wasn’t bad. A few thousands. I guess we’re done” says Hosea coming out.  
“What do we do with these two? They saw you” says Bill pointing at Alec and the employee.  
He, Hosea and Javier exchange a look, then Javier takes out his knife.  
“No, don’t kill them” I say putting my body between him and the men.  
“They saw you, it’s too dangerous” replies Javier.  
“They’re innocent.”“We can't risk.”“They won’t say anything if we convince them.”I move my eyes on Hosea, begging him silently to spare them.  
“Wait, maybe she’s right” he says walking past us and kneeling next to Alec.  
“You won’t say nothing, right boy?”  
Alec looks first at Hosea’s face, then at Javier’s knife, and finally back at Hosea. His slight squint eye would make the scene funny, if he wasn’t risking his life.  
“N-no, no” he answers.  
“And you tell your friend to keep his mouth shut as well.”  
“S-sure.”“Alright, let’s go. Gentlemen, it was a pleasure” he adds with a little bow towards the tied men.  
Hosea is the first to walk out of the bank followed by Bill and then me.  
“We really let them live? What if they talk to the sheriff?” asks Bill as soon as we’re outside.  
“The boy won’t. The other one probably doesn’t even remember us after that blow you gave him.”  
“Yeah, you’re probably right. How strange! This must be the first job I’m in that doesn’t end with a gunfight” laughs Bill.  
“That’s because I took care of the organization” replies Hosea with a crooked smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> You know, I'm really disappointed by the game right now, because I played it three times and it never happened to me that Charles asked me to rob the bank of Rhodes. I've done all the others, really all of them: stagecoach with Lenny, the one with Micah, even the one with Sean and Mary-Beth which is like super rare, but the bank with Charles and Uncle, still nothing. :(  
> Anyway I hope you liked my alternative version to the robbery at the bank. (Javier really doesn't want to give up, does he?)  
> See you soon!


	21. The Unexpected

Fine. Everything seems to be fine. At least for now. My recent job put me in good light with Dutch again and for what concerns the rest of camp I’m not having any problem. Quite the contrary they seem to appreciate me every day more.   
I spend most of my time working with Miss Grimshaw and especially Mr. Pearson, now that Sadie resigned from kitchen assistant, and in my free time I practice with the bow, with little improvement until now, or play with Jack and our new four legged member.   
More time I spend with him, the more I’m understanding that Jack is a child with an incredible sensibility. Sure, he admires John, Arthur and Hosea, but he doesn’t seem interested in guns and violence or anything else that surrounds him. He’s attracted by the stories from the past, by nature and he shows a deep affection for his mother. He has a romantic soul and when he’ll grow up, I can already imagine him as an intellectual, a man of culture.  
He reminds me of George, the boy that helped us at the ranch. He had a dreamer mind, too, but his family and his funds never gave him the possibility to travel outside our shire.  
I watch Jack as he throws a little leather ball to Cain, the dog, and I make myself a proposition: until I stay with them, I’ll try to help Abigail and John as I can, so to give Jack a better future than George’s.   
In the evening, I spend my time with almost everyone else and especially Sadie who, like me, started to sit around the campfires with the men. It looks like Micah doesn’t like this very much, but he must be careful: Sadie is not like me and he better watches his mouth if he doesn’t want to see one of his ears reaped apart. Oh, what a beautiful sight it would be.  
Sometimes it happens that Javier takes his guitar to play something. With him things aren’t so good. He treats me with coldness and gives me dirty looks and silent treatment when I try to talk about his feeling for me. All I’m trying to do is make him understand that it’s not my fault if I don’t feel the same and that his unrequited feelings don’t mean that we can’t be friends.   
Feelings…  
Talking about feelings, I haven’t spent some time alone with Charles anymore. I don’t know if I must be happy or not about that. When I came back from the bank robbery he asked me how it went and we talked a little about it, but right after things got awkward and I had to run away like an idiot. Oh, fuck me!  
We heard some voices from Rhodes: the bank has been robbed. The witnesses talked about two men with their faces covered. Alec kept his promise and Miller didn’t step in. Good, this makes things way easier, because it means we can keep moving freely in town.   
After these good news everybody is looking for another heist, eager to prove themselves. Even Trelawny is getting busy. He went to the city a couple of times, coming back with empty hands, but talking about some ‘precious informations’. I guess only he knows what he’s talking about.

Something happened today: we removed Arthur’s bandages. Now he can go back to rob, kill, threat and all those good things he generally does. Despite it, I’m so happy he recovered fast.  
Bill has been sent to town and when he’s come back he said something about a job with the Grays, a security job it seems.  
“Why don’t you come with us?” he asks me, when Dutch orders him to go back to Rhodes and find out more details.   
“This way it’ll be, me, you, Micah and Sean. A woman could be useful, just in case we need a little drama.”  
“A little what?”  
“A little drama. You know, you women do that. You act like crazy sometimes.”  
I frown at him, trying to understand if he is serious or not. He can’t be serious. He just can’t.  
“Are you serious?”  
“Sure.”I shake my head slowly and turn around. He doesn’t even deserve an answer.  
“So, you don’t want to come?”  
“I thought you were an idiot, Bill, but not like this.”  
Ignoring his complaining, I get as far from him as I can. Drama. Umpf. Drama he says. If I don’t do this “drama” sometimes people here start to think they can treat me however they like and do whatever they like without consequences. That’s not how the world works. Everything has a consequence.   
After lunch I go take care of my Isabella and I’m just petting her when Arthur walks next to me to go saddle his horse up.   
“How’s the shoulder?”   
“Better. Actually, it is so good, that they decided to make me risk my neck once more.”  
“What do you mean?” I ask turning around to look at him.  
“Bill said he found something in town and I’ve been asked to join them. Sure we’ll end it with the guns.”  
“Ah, so they asked you in the end. Good luck then. With Micah, Sean and Bill you’ll need a lot” I joke.  
“Ohh great” he grunts mounting up and spurring the horse.   
As I finish with the horses, Jack comes to ask me to spend some time with him. We take a walk on the shore of the lake, with Cain sniffing around, every now and then throwing the ball at him, and talking about this or that.   
When the sun is right above our heads and our bellies start to grumble, we decide to go eat something, but Abigail precedes us, running in our direction with an expression on her face that makes me understand something’s wrong.   
“Come. Something happened. No, not you Jack. You stay here” she says in a hurry.  
We leave him playing on the shore and run to the other side of camp where Charles and Javier are…  
I stop walking to look at the scene as something breaks inside me. Suddenly, my body is heavy and I can’t move, nor talk, not even think.   
Charles and Javier are taking a body down from Bill’s horse. And it’s not a simple body. It is… Sean.   
Sean.   
It’s a hand on my shoulder that brings me back to reality and Abigail tells me something I don’t understand before she goes away.   
I start walking with every step that feels like I’m climbing a mountain and I reach Dutch and Hosea, talking with Bill and Micah  
“…we couldn’t predict that. They fooled us, Dutch. But don’t worry, they paid for what they’ve done. We got rid of every single Gray in the city” says the latter.  
I can’t move my eyes from Sean’s red hair as they put him down, but I am forced to look away as soon as they turn him around. His face is… completely messed up with a big hole on his forehead. There’s been a gunfight.   
“Where’s Arthur?” asks Dutch.  
“He said he will come later. I’m sure he’s around here grieving for poor Sean and letting off some steam” answers Micah.  
His words, pronounced like he was talking about candies, are a punch in my stomach and they make me feel sick. Even more than Sean’s sight. I turn to Dutch and Hosea, completely ignoring him and the fact that I’d like to beat him to death right now.  
“Where do we bury him?” I ask with a surprisingly shaking voice and my mouth dry.  
“I’ve got an idea, follow me” says Hosea putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

Karen’s face is a mask. She isn’t showing a single emotion, she isn’t crying, it’s like she feels nothing, but I know that it isn’t the truth. The truth is that she is feeling too much and her body doesn’t know how to react.  
Hosea found a really good spot for Sean: it’s North-West from the camp, right where the wood ends and the lake shore bends in a bay. Here the soil is soft and the view pleasant.   
Lenny helped Charles to dig a hole. Hosea, Karen, Tilly, Miss Grimshaw, the Reverend and Bill were all here when we put him inside it.  
Sean’s death stroke me. It reminded me of something I haven’t been thinking about in a while: death is around every corner, for all of us. Even though I didn’t like him much, I’m sorry, for him and especially for Karen, because I know what she’ll be through from now on.   
When we cover him again, we stay in silence for a couple of minutes. Then, the Reverend says a few words and we scatter.   
I slowly walk the path among the woods back to camp, Sean’s face stuck in my mind. Yes, it could have happened to everybody. Me. Arthur. Hosea.   
Charles.  
Yes. How can it be that I’ve never thought about it before? Not for a moment it came to my mind the idea that he could…  
A cloud covers the sun turning the forest around me of a bluish grey and I realize that I’ve stopped walking. The image of Charles in those conditions as we put him in his grave flashes in my mind and suddenly I can’t even breathe. My knees bend a little as I choke on my own saliva.  
A hand on my shoulder makes me jump and turn around.  
“Are you okay?” asks a worried Charles.   
It’s him. He is here. He is alive. He is right in front of me waiting for an answer, an answer that I don’t give. Instead, I put my arms around his neck and hold him tight.   
He stiffs under my touch, the sign that he didn’t expect it, and, to tell the truth, I didn’t expect to do this either, but it was like an uncontrollable force took my body. Only after a few moments, I feel his hands on me, slowly moving up on my back and holding me in turn.   
And then I have it, that strange feeling, just like that day at the saloon, as if we were alone in the world, the only two people left, and as if nothing is going to hurt me ever again, because until I am with him, I will be safe.   
It’s the scream of a woman that makes me realize in what space and what time I am in. But I don’t want that feeling to fade away, I want to live in this wonderful illusion a little bit more. So I grab him even tighter and smell his hair, closing my eyes and pretending I have heard nothing.  
The woman screams again. This time she is closer. I can’t pretend anymore and reluctantly I let Charles go to turn towards the wood from where Abigail shows up.  
“Jack! Hey, have you seen Jack?” she asks, her voice is shaking and so is her body.  
“We left him on the shore” I reply half bothered by her interruption.  
“Yes, I know. But when I came back he wasn’t there anymore. I just left for a couple of minutes. I can’t understand, where did he go? I called the dog, but it came without him.”  
She talks without even breathing and with a voice that scares me. I’ve never seen her so worried and this time the thing seems serious.  
“Okay, okay, we’ll find him. Don’t worry” I say walking to her and putting an arm around her shoulders.  
“He usually plays near the water or next to our tent. I don’t understand, why he doesn’t answer me?”  
With a last look at Charles I walk her back to camp where some other people started looking for the boy.   
Oh Lord, this is way more serious than I thought.   
Next to Abigail’s tent, Dutch is talking with Kieran, Trelawny, Molly and Strauss. I draw closer to try to understand what is going on while Abigail runs in her tent, called by John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I've read around that Sean's death stroke a lot of people, and honestly me too. It happens in such a sudden way that it gives you no time to understand what is happening, and then immediately after you have to shoot the entire town, which creates even more confusion. Personally, the first time I played this mission, I didn't expect someone to die at this point, so my reaction was very similar to Fred's and I said to myself "if he can die, everyone can" and I started getting afraid for everybody at every mission.  
> Anyway, I hope you liked this rather short chapter.  
> See you soon!


	22. A Mother's Love

“What happened?  
No one answers to my question. I move my inquiring eyes among them: Molly, Strauss, Mr. Trelawny, Kieran and finally Dutch. He sighs deeply and for a moment I think he doesn’t want to tell me anything. Fearing my reaction maybe?  
“Some men took Jack” he says in the end.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I’ve seen two men near camp, on the shore, when you’re gone to bury Sean” Kieran steps in with his insecure voice.  
“And Jack was playing there so…I think they could have taken him” he adds.  
“What men? Pinkertons?” I ask to Dutch.  
“No, we think they could be Braithwaites.”“But…how did they… how…”“We believe they followed Bill and Micah from Rhodes.”  
Of course those two idiots where followed. And after what just happened in Rhodes they found the perfect moment to take us unprepared. But, what do they want from a child? Is it some kind of revenge? He is just a kid for God’s sake!  
“There’s no need to get nervous. So, just relax. We are doing all we can” says Dutch and when I look up at him, grinding my teeth nervously, I notice he is addressing me. Yes, he is definitely worried about my reaction.  
His eyes move up to look at something behind me, so I turn around and finally feel some relief.  
“Arthur” I say.   
“Arthur, have you seen that boy, Jack?” asks Dutch.  
He opens his mouth to answer, but instead Abigail’s voice fills the air.  
“Where’s my goddamn son? Where is he? Where’s my son? They took him didn’t they? They took my son!” she shouts running out of her tent.  
Right after her, John comes out like he wants to stop her somehow, but he soon gives up. No, nothing is gonna stop her now and not until we’ll get Jack back.  
“Who took him?” asks Arthur.  
“We think the Braithwaite woman took him” says Hosea walking towards us with a slight panting, just like he’s been running.  
“That Kieran saw a couple of fellers, sound like Braithwaite boys.”  
“Where’s my son? If anything… where’s my son, Dutch Van der Linde?” Abigail keeps saying just like these are the only words she has been left to express her distress.  
In a way, I can understand her. She is a mother. I would make a mountain move to have my son back, and she doesn’t seem capable of less. But despite her great strength, her eyes are shiny and the only thing I can do is put a hand on her shoulder to give her my comfort. Everything else seems vain.  
“We will find him, we will bring him back to you and we will kill any fool that had the temerity to touch one hair on that boy’s head. Abigail, you have my word” says Dutch.  
“Just get me back my son.”  
“I will get that boy back, so help me God, right now.”  
He goes away and the only thing I can think of doing is follow him.   
“Dutch, we just heard about Jack. You need some extra guns?” asks Bill, Javier and Charles right after him.  
Charles probably went back to Sean’s grave to tell the others about Jack’s disappearance and they all came as soon as they could.   
“Yeah, why not? Micah, Kieran, anyone strange turn up, you kill ‘em! Rest of you, let’s ride!” orders Dutch heading to the horses with most of the men following him. Well, most of the men and a woman, because it doesn’t matter what they say, I will be there tonight, when they’ll find Jack and they’ll make that woman pay for what she’s done.  
We ride through the woods. The sound of horses’s hooves ringing in my ears and my mind stuck inside a bubble. It all seems surreal, impossible. A few hours ago Sean was still alive, Jack was with us and we weren’t at war with two of the most powerful families in the neighborhood.   
What’s waiting for us? An army of men? A crying boy in the hands of that witch? Or worse… no, I can’t even think about that.  
The thought makes me squeeze the reins so tight that I feel the nails digging on the palms of my hands.  
We follow the path until we reach the Braithwaite Manor. The long alley that leads to the house looks different tonight. The branches of the trees, intertwined above our heads, make everything more creepy. A death omen? Maybe, but not for us.   
“Alright everyone, dismount and come to me. We’ll go in on foot from here” orders Dutch.  
“First Sean, now Jack. We should have stayed out of all this” says Lenny on my left.  
“Bit late for that, ain’t it?” replies Bill.  
“Quiet, we’re going to fix this right now” says Dutch while we all gather around him.  
He has to fix this, it is no-one faults but his. He wanted to play both sides, he wanted to rob both families, and now what? The families have robbed us. They took Sean, and they took Jack.   
“Come on, let’s get this done. John, you’re sure you’re okay?” he asks.  
“I’m fine” answers John and even if I can’t see his face in the darkness, his voice sounds full of rage to me.   
“Both these redneck families think they can ruin us? I don’t think so” Dutch keeps saying entering the front yard of the Braithwaite manor. The house is the only source of light against the pitch black of the fields around, like a torch in the darkness.   
There is a feeling rising, but not only inside me, it seems to be more like a common feeling, a common rage that brings us all together. We want revenge.  
“There they are” remarks Hosea pointing at the house from where the Braithwaite men are coming out.  
“Who steals a goddamn boy?” says Dutch with disdain.  
“I’m gonna let fly at those sons of bitches” growls John.  
“John, I need you to stay calm. Get down here now! You inbred trash!” yells Dutch towards the house. Good example of staying calm.   
“What the hell do you want?” asks a man from the porch. “We’ve come for the boy. You must’ve known we would.”  
“Shouldn’t have messed with our business now, should you?”  
We all stop at Dutch’s order while he takes a couple of steps forward.  
“Whatever complaint you have with us, alleged or otherwise… that is a young boy. That is not the way you do things. Hand him over” he says.  
“Get the hell off our land!”  
More men come out showing their rifles and their revolvers in a threatening way, but the only thing that actually scares me, is that they are more than us.  
“If you ain’t gonna be civilized about this…”  
Dutch’s suspension is soon followed by a shot. He’s taken out his pistol and fired unexpectedly. It’s the go-ahead.   
I take cover while I hear bullets from left and right. I grab the rifle and stick out aiming blindly. The rifle doesn’t allow me to shoot with precision and the darkness hides them, but I try anyway.   
Everything ends suddenly, just like it started. Maybe I’ve been able to kill a couple of men, but luckily the others are better than me.   
“Bill, Javier, cover the left. Arthur, John, Hosea with me. The rest of you, watch out here for any other arrivals” orders Dutch.  
I leave my cover and run at the front door just in time to see them go inside. Bill and Javier walk past me and head to the left side of the house.  
I start pacing the yard waiting to hear Dutch who from the inside tells us they found Jack, but all I can hear are a couple of shots and John calling out his son. I look at the sky taking deep breaths and trying to calm down.  
“Hey.”  
It’s Charles.  
“Everything is going to be fine. They’ll find him any moment now.”I try to smile, but my cheeks tremble for the tension and as soon as I look in his direction there is something else that catches my attention. Some lanterns approaching from the alley.  
“Charles…” I say pointing a finger behind him.  
He turns around and runs to the house.  
“There are more of them coming!” he yells.   
Then, he comes back to grab my arm and pull me away. Together we take cover.  
I hear some shots form the balcony of the house and when I look up I see John and Arthur shooting.   
This time there is more of them, on foot, at horseback and on the wagons. How large is this fucking family?  
I aim the head, the chest, the legs anything I can hit in the darkness of the alley. Someone hits one of the lanterns which breaks in a hundred pieces and covers with oil and flames a wagon with two men on it. They get down and try to put the fire out, so they become perfect targets.  
“More from the right!” shouts John from the balcony.  
Bill and Javier join us as we try to deal with the dark figures coming from every direction. Again, it ends suddenly and I don’t realize it until Charles comes next to me again.   
“You’re okay?” I ask.  
He can’t even answer that we hear two more shots and the scream of a woman coming from the house. The Braithwaite woman probably. Then, Dutch yells something I can’t understand and from the windows some beams of red light make me wonder wha the hell is going on inside there. Only after I understand that they have set fire to the building.   
Hosea and John get out of the manor followed by Arthur and then Dutch who’s dragging the woman from her hair. No trace of Jack. I don’t know why, but by now, I already expected it.   
Catherine Braithwaite is fidgeting and fighting in Dutch’s hands, her scream are full of wrath and hate. The flames start coming out from the doors and windows and the air is filling with the dark smoke. Dutch leaves the woman on the ground from where she gives us all a disgusted look.  
“I never liked you” she says.  
“Why’d you take the boy, Mrs. Braithwaite?” asks Hosea.  
“You stole my liquor…”  
“Boys are off limits.”  
“…you stole my horses.”  
“Where is he?”  
“Ain’t no rules in war, Mr…”  
“Matthews.”  
“Yes, yes that’s it…”  
Dutch takes out his revolver and points it to her head.  
“Where’s the boy?” Hosea asks again.  
The air is almost unbreathable. If they don’t move we’re all going to suffocate here.  
“My sons gave him to Angelo Bronte. So my guess is Saint Denis. Either there or on the boat to Italy” reveals the Braithwaite woman in the end.  
“Let’s go” says Hosea.  
“Arthur come on” calls Dutch.  
“What we doing with her?” he asks.  
“Leave her.”But I don’t move, too curious to know what this bitch is going to do now that she lost everything. With my great surprise and, she stands up and, without even looking at me, she heads to the burning house.   
Now, the smoke is making my eyes water and I really need to take some clean air, so in the end I am forced to go away. Only when I reach again the horses I turn around to look at her, but she disappeared.  
“Where did she go? Did she get back inside the house?” I ask.  
“I told you she was crazy” says Hosea just like nothing has happened.  
“Come on, let’s get back to camp. We need to understand how to find this Angelo Bronte” replies Dutch.  
I keep my eyes on the house in the distance still not believing she truly walked inside. I wish Dutch shot her. I wish I could see her die. But maybe this way is better. She’ll be dead by now anyway, and this end is definitely worse than been shot in the head.  
Saint Denis. She sent Jack to fucking Saint Denis!

“I wonder what they’re talking about” says Kieran.  
“They’ll be making some kind of plan to rescue Jack” I reply taking a sip of coffee.  
“What’s the name of the man who brought him to Saint Denis, again?”  
“Bronte I think. He seems Italian.”  
I take another sip from my cup, watching the four men in the distance. Last night, as soon as we got to camp, Dutch told us to go to sleep and that today they would have thought about what to do. Now it’s been almost an hour since he, John, Hosea and Arthur sat around that table.  
“You don’t look like someone who slept a lot” remarks Kieran.  
“At all” I reply drinking again.  
I didn’t get a wink of sleep. And who could have? To keep me awake, apart from what happened, were Abigail’s sobs: light, muffled, just like she wanted to hide them, but our tents are close and I couldn’t ignore them. When the dawn arrived, I immediately got out to provide me some coffee, and walking from my tent to the kitchen, I’ve seen John sleeping in Charles’ tent, so she spent the night alone. This morning, she hasn’t shown up yet. And I don’t think she will soon.  
My attention is caught by something a little bit further from Abigail’s tent. Lenny is approaching Dutch’s table with another two men I’ve never seen before. They look formal and smart. Government agents? I stand up and walk in their direction, half the camp is doing the same.  
“Good day fine people” says one of the two. He wears a red waistcoat, a black jacket and a bowler. He greets all the men at the table - he seems to perfectly know them all - and then presents himself as Agent Milton, from the Pinkerton Detective Agency, the other one is Agent Ross and apparently he’s mute. We all gather around them, creating a small circle.  
“And to what do we owe the pleasure, Agent Moron?” asks Dutch with sarcasm.  
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but this is a civilized land now. We didn’t kill all them savages only to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented. This thing, it’s done” replies Milton.  
“This place ain’t no such thing as civilized. It’s man so in love with greed, he has forgotten himself and found only appetites” says Dutch standing up and walking towards our guests.  
“And as a consequence that lets you take what you please, kill whom you please and hang the rest of us? Who made you the messiah to these lost souls you’ve led so horribly astray?”  
I’m sure I don’t like him, but he’s not wrong. They’re criminals. We are criminals. Besides, I think he saw Dutch for what he really is: a fraud.  
“I’m nothing but a seeker, Mr. Milton.”   
“You ain’t much of anything more than a killer, Mr. Van der Linde.”  
The two of them look at each other with hate and for a moment I’m afraid one of them could take his gun out to kill the other.  
“But I came to make a deal. You come with me, and I give the rest of ya three days to run off, disappear and go and live like human beings someplace else” says Milton in the end.  
“You came for me? Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Ain’t that fine?” replies Dutch provoking a general chuckle.  
“I don’t wanna kill all these folks, Dutch, just you.”  
I don’t know who I believe less right now.  
“In that case it’d be my honor to join you. Excuse me, friends, I have an appointment to keep with.”As soon as Dutch says these words, a dozen of pistols and rifles are taken out and charged. I think I’m the only one who hasn’t took a gun.  
“You’re making a big mistake, all of you” says Milton.  
“Yeah dreadful. We have got something, something to live and die for. How awful for us, Mr. Milton. Stop following us, we’ll be gone soon” replies Dutch.  
“I’m afraid I can’t, and when I return I’ll be with fifty men. All of you will die. Run away from this place, you fools. Run!”  
When he finishes with the threats, he angrily goes away, Agent Ross right after him.  
“What do we do now?” asks Arthur when the two men leave.  
They start talking about a place called Shady Belle. Arthur reckons is a good place to hide, at least until we find Jack. He and John will take a look while we have to pick up our things and move.   
We scatter and I head to my tent to start packing. Shady Belle. I don’t know the place, but it must be closer to Saint Denis if we’re going to stay there until we’ll take Jack back.   
I startle and run out of my tent as I remember something.   
“Abigail” I call out. I guess no-one told her anything.  
“Abigail, you’re there? We have to pack our things. We have to go!” I say at the closed tent, but I receive no answer.  
“We move closer to Saint Denis, to rescue Jack!”  
Some noise and then the curtains open showing her red eyes and messy hair.  
“I’ll help you” I say going inside.

As soon as John comes back, we follow him southward, passing Rhodes and reaching a path surrounded by trees that leads to a big house very similar to the Braithwaite Manor. The only difference is that this one is definitely in a worse state: the wood is stripped, the paint is faded, the grass is wild and the wetness and the smell coming from the swamp make the place barely livable. A trench has been dug to separate the forest from the house and the little wooden bridge that has been built to cross it creaks when we walk on it.   
Arthur comes out of the front door with a theatrical gesture that makes me smile.  
“Welcome home all of ya, to my humble abode. We got fine living. Ignore the corpses and the alligators, it’s paradise” he jokes.  
“I love it! Miss Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson, would you two kindly work your magic?” says Dutch.  
Then he turns to Arthur, tells him something and the two of them mount on their horses and go away.  
We all get to work to set our new camp. I’ve been moving a lot in the past year, but not as frequently as I’m doing now. It’s disorienting somehow, but also the changing of location, the change of air, helps seeing things from a different perspective.  
As always, it’s Miss Grimshaw that decides how to organize the camp. Inside the house, on the first floor, will sleep the girls and Hosea in a little private room. Miss Grimshaw asks me if I want to sleep with them, but I prefer my little tent on the outside with all the others. Upstairs is reserved to Dutch, Arthur and John with his family. On the outside we settle the kitchen and the carts with the supplies. Charles and Bill get to work for chopping the wood and start the two campfires.  
The sun is already going down when we’re done and we still have no news from Arthur and Dutch. Despite the anxiety and the stress, the fatigue of the day is making my stomach grumble and I go take some of Pearson’s stew.   
I’m just heading to the campfire with my plate when John catches my attention, seated at a table all alone with a bottle.  
“Can I?” I ask drawing closer and pointing at the chair opposite to him.  
“Sure” he mumbles.  
For a while we sit in silence as I swallow my meat and potatoes, but soon I can’t bear seeing him like this anymore. I feel the need to show my compassion and support.  
“Nothing from Saint Denis yet?” I ask.  
He slowly shakes his head.  
“How’s Abigail?”  
“She don’t want to talk with me. If we don’t find Jack I…I don’t know what she…”   
With a sigh he brings a hand to his face.  
I’m sorry? We we’ll figure it out? They’ll pay for this? What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do?  
“Why they left me here? Why Dutch hasn’t brought me with him?” he asks more to himself than me.  
“W-well, maybe because you are too involved?”  
“I behaved myself until now!”  
“I know, I know!”  
“JOHN!”We both turn around to look at Dutch.  
“John, we found Bronte. Come on, let’s go” he says.  
We both jerk up.  
“No, only John” says Dutch pointing a menacing finger in my direction.  
“If you don’t want me to come, you’ll have to shoot me” I reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> This is one of my favorite missions: when they walk all together towards the Braithwaite Manor, all angry and ready to get their revenge. I love it! It sends shivers down my back every time!  
> I kind of liked Mrs. Braithwaite, though. Despite Jack, I think she was an admirable character. With a bunch of sons and grandsons like that I think it's pretty obvious she developed a firm hand.  
> Anyway, I'll leave you to it (Arthur's voice)  
> See you soon!


	23. Angelo Bronte

The sun, low on the horizon, projects our long shadows on the road in front of us as I follow Dutch and John on the path that leads to Saint Denis.   
Lemoyne. With its swamps, and its alligators, and its bugs, and its families of crazies. What are we doing here? Why hasn’t Dutch commanded us to move north, or even better, west?  
“How did you find him so quickly?” asks John.  
“It seems that Mr. Angelo Bronte is well known. A rich and powerful man with a beautiful house in the city centre. Find him wasn’t hard” answers Dutch.  
“Great so…now we’re catching some more unrequited attentions on us” I say bitterly.  
“It’s necessary, if we want Jack back. And then it was you who insisted to come, so it’s your choice to expose yourself” replies Dutch.  
“I don’t worry about me. But cause more troubles means putting in danger the rest of the group and I don’t want that what happened to Sean happens to someone else.”  
Like Charles.  
“That won’t happen again, I promise, to both of you.”  
He always talks like he has the power to stop death itself and he makes me so angry, because in the end he has no power at all, except maybe the power to take bad choices. But at least he seems to believe in these words and I like to think he will do anything to make things right now.   
Saint Denis is exactly how I imagined it. A mass of steal and sewer, full of drunks and beggars. It has some good aspects, though: wide streets, a good park, shops with attractive windows… nothing worth enough that might want me to live here anyway.  
We turn left and travel a series of little alleys until we reach a big wooded square. We get down the horses and stop in front of a house.  
“Must be it. Let’s wait for Arthur” says Dutch sitting on a bench.  
“I know you’re nervous, son” he adds to John who takes place next to him.  
“But remember to keep calm. We don’t know who we are dealing with, so just let me do the talking. The same is for you. I let you come with us, but don’t you think you can go inside there and say and do what you please” he says to me.  
“I’ll be good, I promise, but if they try to fool us…”  
“They won’t. You just do your part and I’ll do mine. And we’ll take that boy back. Tonight.”  
He finishes with such a determination that I’m not able to add nothing else, so we just stay quiet and wait for Arthur, who shows up a couple of minutes later.  
“There you are” says Dutch standing up.  
“What is she doing here? I thought you said me, you and John” he replies pointing at me.  
“I’m happy to see you too, Arthur” I joke.  
“She insisted to come. Have you found something else about this guy?” asks Dutch heading towards the house.  
“Not much, just that he’s some slick, little, greasy-haired European who’s clearly got power and money. Now, listen, if we go in there and start shooting up the place, the boy’s gonna get shot. That I guarantee. Feller like this is gonna have a lot of protection.”  
“Ain’t no one gonna get shot, Arthur, so everyone just relax. We’ll charm him. Trust me.”  
Bronte’s house is classy and majestic with a heavy iron gate and a high wall to protect it. An italian guy with a house like this, guards at the entrance and involved in an illegal liquor business. I’m starting to get an idea of who we are about to meet.  
“Excuse me, sir. We have an appointment to see Mr. Bronte” says Dutch to the man at the entrance.  
“Who are you?”  
As an answers, Dutch gets close enough to be able to grab him through the bars and hit his face on the gate while with the other hand he takes his pistol.  
“You get your boss down, here and now, so we can talk this like gentlemen” Dutch threats him.  
When he lets him go, the boy quickly stumbles away with a hand to cover his bloody nose.  
“Was that the special Dutch charm I heard so much about?” jokes John.  
“Relax… I got this.”More guards come at the entrance and the first thought I have is that they are about to execute us on our places, but instead they open the gate to let us in. Again, I wait for them to take away our guns, but they don’t. They simply watch us while we walk through the front door of Bronte’s house and inside the hall.   
The interiors are covered with a red and gold wallpaper and colorful carpets. When we pass the entrance they lead us inside a little living room with black covered couches. A man with a red night gown is laying on one of them. He looks at us with a haughty gaze and then says something in Italian that none of us understands.  
“Why did you take his son?” inquiries Dutch.  
Bronte moves his eyes on him, both surprised and annoyed by the sudden interruption. I mentally curse Dutch and his arrogance. He really thinks he can treat this man the way he treats us?  
“Excuse me?” asks Mr Bronte sitting upright.  
“I said… why did you take his son?” repeats Dutch. I really wish I could cover his mouth with my hands and tell him to shut the fuck up.   
Mr. Bronte looks at him for an endless time, apparently calm, but already planning his revenge in my opinion.  
“We ain’t got no problems with you, sir. Nor you with us. But if you wanna start one, there’s gonna be a lot of folks dead in this room before it’s done” adds Dutch when he receives no answer.  
As the tension in the room raises, Bronte’s men exchange a look and point their rifles in our direction. Arthur and John’s hands jump on the holsters. I do the same as the italian doesn’t move his eyes from Dutch.  
“So, you walk into my city, stinking of shit and looking like this, and you come into my house, before you have a bath and you tell me how to act?” he says with that strange foreign accent.  
“You ask me to show compassion? Have I not shown you almost infinite compassion already by simply allowing you to breathe in my presence?”  
He scares me, a lot. And he’s going to kill us. He definitely is.  
“Indeed you have” says Dutch with a more condescending tone and putting his hands up. Then, just like nothing has happened he walks to the couch opposite to Bronte and sits down.  
“Now… we are simple country folks. All we have is each other and you have gone and you have took his son, over some dispute with some inbred ex-slavers” he says.  
What the hell is he doing? These people seem to care a lot about good manners and his act doesn’t seem polite. And the italian seems to share my opinion because he looks at him with a disgusted face.  
“And it ain’t got nothing to do with anyone of us” ends Dutch.  
“You had nothing to do with destroying the LIQUOR BUSINESS?”  
At Bronte’s yell I jump until my head touches the ceiling.   
“We was innocent bystanders. And that which we weren’t innocent of, well we… we most surely were ignorant of” replies Dutch. He keeps speaking quietly, like he doesn't fear him. But me, on the contrary, I'm afraid of this man. From the way he talks he seems capable of everything.  
“You, you… you twist words… you lie shamelessly, you think you are better than everyone else…” says Bronte.  
Good, now he understood what kind of person Dutch is. Now, we’re fucked up.  
As another silence falls I gulp and start counting the men in the room. Too many for the four of us.  
But then, Bronte laughs and says something in italian to his men. Not able to understand what’s happening, I look at my companions. They apparently can’t either. Bronte stands up and shakes hands with Dutch who turns to us making the presentations.  
“These are Arthur Morgan, John Marston and Fre…”  
“Miss Faraday” I say.  
“Ah… a woman with a strong personality. My pleasure” says Bronte.  
We sit on the couch in front of him while one of his men serves us something to drink. I take one of the little glasses, but I don’t touch it.  
“So, can my friend have his son?” asks Dutch.  
“Of course, of course. But… should I be out of pocket over a misunderstanding? Of course I know you would not want that…”  
Dutch glances at us first, then he replies with an insecure "No".  
“No, no, no, so, how about this? You perform a simple job for me and you get your son back.”  
Of course, that was too easy. He gives nothing for nothing.  
“What is it?” asks Arthur with a sigh.  
“A couple of people have taken to grave robbing in the cemetery” explains Bronte.  
“That is a fine place for it, the best” replies Dutch.  
Apparently he’s said something really funny because Bronte starts laughing.  
“See they’ve taken, not only to desecrating the dead but they’ve done so without paying a tribute to the living. Thing is, they see my men, of course, they run a mile. So maybe you two head off…” says Bronte to Arthur and John.  
“And you Mr. Van der Linde. Why, you tell me more about my manners. And the Miss here, she can, if she wants of course, enjoy my company.”  
Both Arthur and John look at me when they stand up.   
“Yes, I think I’ll stay” I say. I truly don’t want to add tomb desecration to the already long list of sins.   
As soon as they exit the room, Dutch and the italian start a game of puns and mocks forgetting completely about me. I don’t complain though: this kind of talking and behaving is not for me and I can’t even follow the discussion. I look at the glass they’ve given to me and I smell the content. It seems some kind of liquor that smells like wet wood.   
I bring it to my mouth and push it immediately away, wrinkling my nose and mouth and swallowing that little of liquid I took. It tastes like shit! It has nothing to do with our whiskey.   
Realizing my gesture and disgusted face, I look around, checking if someone has seen me. Fortunately, Dutch and Bronte are too busy, but I exchange a look with one of the guards who smiles at me and nods towards my glass. I smile back with embarrassment and look down.  
“I’d be happy to see you again at the mayor’s garden party. An unpleasant man indeed, but known for his celebrations in style” says Bronte sipping from his glass.  
“Of course we’re talking about a big event, very formal, and the code needs an appropriate dressing” he adds looking at us.  
“It won’t be a problem. Thank you for the invitation” replies Dutch.  
For a moment silence falls, something that hasn't happened for a long time, and then, Bronte stands up and claps his hands.  
“I think we’re good! We have an agreement” he says.  
He turns to one of his men and says something in italian. The guard leaves the room. Dutch and I stand up looking around and trying to understand what’s going on.   
“Mr. Van der Linde, it was a pleasure. And I’ll be waiting for you at the mayor’s house” he adds shaking hands with him.  
“We’ll be there.”  
“Uncle Dutch! Fred!”  
“Jack!” I exclaim turning around.  
His little smiling face fills my heart with joy. Besides, he seems to be treated well: he has new clothes, he smells like soap and he looks well fed.   
“Jack, my dear boy! It’s good to see you again!” says Dutch.  
Bronte makes us go outside, with my relief I’d like to add, but there’s still no trace of Arthur and John, so we sit on the steps of the porch and wait.  
“It looks like they treated you well inside that house” I say to Jack.  
“I had a bath, they gave me new clothes and some strange things to eat and papa Bronte told me some italian words” he replies.  
“Ah… papa Bronte. You listen Dutch?”  
But when I look at him, Dutch is seated with his head between his hands and a thoughtful expression. What’s going on inside there? What is he thinking? What is he scheming?   
I focus again on Jack who tells me everything about papa Bronte and his big house and his big bed and all the toys he could play with. After a few minutes the gate opens and John and Arthur come inside.  
“Well… you took your time” says Dutch.   
“Where’s your host?” asks Arthur.  
“Like I said… you took your time” repeats Dutch.  
“How are you?” asks John to Jack as soon as we exit Bronte’s property.  
“I’m fine, I’m fine.”  
“You know, Arthur. Mr. Bronte has invited us to a garden party at the mayor’s house. And us, just simple country boys” says Dutch as we walk out of the gate.  
“He first recommended us a bath” I add.  
On the way back, Jack tells Arthur and John all the things he has already told me and keeps addressing the Italian as ‘papa Bronte’. John notices that too, and he doesn’t seem to like it, neither. I wonder what the boy has been told to remain this calm during all the time he’s been away?   
As soon as we get to cam, Bill calls out the others and Abigail comes out of the house running to hug her son.  
“Thank you, you got my son back. Dutch, Arthur, Fred… thank you” she says, her voice shaking, but this time with a more positive emotion. She’s happy.  
Then, she glances at John and goes away. A little perplexed, I move my eyes on him while he looks at them going away. Why didn’t she thank him too? She’s still mad at him?  
“So?” asks Hosea coming near us.  
“Well… we met Mr. Bronte…” begins Dutch, but I don’t stay here to listen to them. Instead, I move towards the horses and free my Isabella from the saddle.  
“Come on, we have to celebrate!” I hear someone shouting from the camp.  
I go back to see the entire camp which has gathered around Javier who started a song that they sing all together. They’re smiling. They’re singing. They’re happy. They’re truly fine, maybe for the first time since I’ve met them.   
I really wish they could always be like this. But how long can this last? How much until something else happens? Until someone else disappears or dies?   
The smile I have on my face slowly fades away. Instinctively, I turn my head and look at Charles, a little bit away from me. He’s not singing. He’s not smiling, either. He’s just staring back at me. Is he thinking what I’m thinking? Is he feeling what I feel?  
With my stomach clenched by an invisible hand, I look away and go sit on a log. When Javier finishes the song the crowd scatters and Kieran comes to join me.  
“You’re okay?” he asks.  
I nod, but my eyes move again on Charles in the distance. What if we are running out of time? What if we don’t have a chance?  
“So, in the end all went good with that italian” he remarks.  
I nod again. My head becomes suddenly full of thoughts. I go back to the other day, when I hugged him: the smell of his hair, the touch of his hands… I wish that moment could last forever. I wish we had more time. More time to do what? Remember: a life on the run, outlaws, death always around the corner.   
“I should tell you something, but… promise me you won’t worry” says Kieran.  
I look at him, pushing away every other kind of thought.  
“What? What’s wrong?” I ask.  
He sighs and gives some nervous glances around.  
“I’ve seen… some O’Driscolls in the hereabouts.”  
I open my eyes wide and drop my jaw.  
“Did you tell this to someone else?”   
“Ye, Dutch and Hosea. They advised me caution and calmness and they say it’s better for me not to wander around for a little.”  
“They’re right, they’re right. If you see more of them you coma and tell me immediately, ok?”  
“Sure, sure.”I put a hand on his trembling back and pat him friendly. Poor man. I reckon his life wasn’t fun with Colm O’Driscoll, but now it will be worse. He must be careful.   
The strangest of the things I’ve never seen distracts me from Kieran. Something I didn’t thought to be possible. Miss Grimshaw and Karen are seated at the same table, happy and smiling, and maybe even drunk, and they are singing a song together. Well, I don’t know if Karen can be described as happy, but at least she isn’t thinking about Sean right now. I hope she isn’t.   
Javier is still playing the guitar. To his right there’s Charles, seated on the ground, to his left, Hosea on a chair. I stand up and walk towards them, sitting next to Arthur.  
“I’m curious of what you think about this Italian” says Hosea looking at me.  
“I really have no idea” I answers with a shrug.  
“How can you not? You’ve been there all the time to listen him talking” remarks Arthur.  
“For the entire evening they blabbed about incomprehensible things and then he invited us to the party. What could I understand about him?”  
“Party?” asks Hosea.  
“We’ve been invited to a wonderful garden party at the mayor’s house” says Dutch showing up from my left.  
“And… about that, we should find some good clothes and clean up a little. Miss Grimshaw will take care of you” he adds to me.  
“What? Me? I don’t…”  
“He asked you personally. It would be unkind not to show up.”  
“You’ll say I’m not well. You’ll find some excuse. I have no intention to go among…a group of…”  
I look around trying to find the right words. A party. At the mayor’s house. With all those pompous son’s of bitches and those women who think they have some kind of power in the society while the truth is they are worth nothing in the eyes of their men. With all their manners and behavior and rules, I will feel like a fish out of water and they all will notice and look at me with their powdered disgusted faces.   
“I’m not a high society kind of person. I don’t know how to behave” I say in the end.  
“Molly can help you with the bon ton. We need you. Bronte expects you to be there and we don’t want to disappoint him” replies Dutch.  
Again, this sounds more like an order than a request. There is nothing I can do.   
“Are you talking about parties? What now? You’ll wear a dress and dance with the aristocracy? Or you’ll wear classy pants like the men?” jokes Micah coming to sit with us.  
Oh Lord. I hadn’t thought about the dress. I will surely need to wear I dress.  
“Shit!” I exclaim out loud.  
“Well, if I were you, I’d start to watch my language a little” says Hosea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> As I said many times before to almost everyone I know, the first time I saw Angelo Bronte I was scared for Arthur, John and Dutch's lives because that man seemed really dangerous. Bronte was surely shaped on the idea of a mafia boss and here in Italy (but also in other parts of the world I think) we know exactly how dangerous these people can be, and Rockstar has made a great job with him, because he's not ridiculous, like many italian characters are sometimes, but quite the opposite. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter and see you soon!


	24. A High Society Girl

The day starts hot and wet. The marshland we’re in isn’t exactly the best place to live with all the dampness, the mud and the bugs everywhere. I swear I have every inch of my skin covered in mosquitos bites. Annoying useless creatures, why do they exist? To drive me crazy?  
I’m drinking my coffee with Sadie and Abigail, when Mis Grimshaw approaches us with a military pace.  
“Miss Faraday, let’s go! Mr. Williamson is waiting for us” she says.  
“Excuse me?”  
“We have to go to the city and clean you up for tonight.”  
“B-but…”  
“Come! Now!”  
I look at Sadie and Abigail, begging them with the eyes, but they limit themselves to smile and shrug. I give them a dirty look before I go away. A promise of vengeance for their denied help.  
At the carriage, Molly O’Shea is waiting for us, with her usual princess attitude. If this is how the day is starting, I would better start to pray.

Saint Denis in the morning has a completely different effect. It is a city full of life with gentlemen and ladies walking in the streets, and without all those shady figures creeping in the alleys. I might even describe it as pleasant, if it wasn’t for the long-lasting smell of coal and oil coming from the factories.  
While we drive on the large alley, I look out from the stagecoach window and start feeling uncomfortable at the idea that I have to overdress myself like an exhibition horse and parade in front of the haughty gazes of the city nobility. I keep thinking they could have perfectly gone without me. Bronte wouldn’t even notice my absence. Unless Dutch has other plans for me. Maybe he believes a woman can find the favor of the italian more easily? What am I? A cow to sell?  
The resentment towards Dutch and his bad decisions follows me for all the way to our destination, which in this case, it’s a shop. Getting down the coach, I glance at the windows full of colorful fabrics.  
Here we go.  
As soon as we step inside, Miss Grimshaw and Miss O’Shea throw themselves on the catalogue and start turning the pages and whisper between them.  
“This one” says Molly at the end, pointing at something on the paper.  
“Follow me” tells me the tailor.  
I go inside the dress-room and two maidens start undressing me. The first thing they help me put on are the shoes, all shiny and high. I stumble a little before finding my balance. Then, they make me wear a large petticoat and start tightening the corset. I gasp when they strongly pull the strings. Finally I wear the dress: its dark blue, with a wonderful neckline that highlights… everything. I go out the dress-room paying attention on where I step. The last think I want to do is break my neck.   
“No, no my dear. Keep your head high and look right in front of you. And then…” says Molly coming next to me and grabbing my hair.  
“I think this way’s better” she adds pulling them up.  
“Definitely. We need a necklace, and earrings. Pearls, maybe” says Miss Grimshaw to the tailor, who nods and runs to the other room.  
He comes back after a couple of minutes with what we have asked for. Miss Grimshaw helps me wearing everything and then pushes me in front of the mirror.   
“Holy shit!” I whisper amazed.  
“Language, Miss. Remember where you have to go” Miss Grimshaw scolds me but I don’t listen to her.  
I don’t look like me, just like I had stepped inside someone else’s body. I turn to left and right, make spins and twirls just to see the cloth dancing around my ankles.   
The pain comes after, when the tailor pronounces the amount we have to pay for the rent of the dress.  
“Miss Grimshaw, I… I don’t…”  
“Hush now. We’ll talk about it later.”We get out of the shop and back to the carriage. On the seat next to me now there is a packet covered in dark paper.   
“Miss Grimshaw, about the money…”  
“You’ll repay the debt” she simply says.  
I smile as I think about my reflection on that mirror. If I’ll look like that tonight, maybe the party won’t be a complete failure.   
To my great surprise, the stagecoach stops again, this time in front of a building that could seem anonymous if it wasn’t for the colorful sign above the entrance: ‘Mrs. Moore Girls’. I get down and look better at the three can-can dancing girls painted on it.   
“Why are we in a broth…” I start, but Miss Grimshaw shushes me before addressing Bill.  
“Mr. Williamson, this will take us a little. You can go drink something in the meantime.”  
Then, she knocks at the door. The girl that opens has dark hair and eyes and she wears a very low-necked dress.  
“I’d like to talk with Mrs. Moore” says Miss Grimshaw.  
She lets us inside. The smell of incense hits my nostrils and the suffused light, in contrast with the outside sun, makes me blind for a while.   
As soon as I am able to see again, I notice the big room, with fluffy sofas, colored cushions and wide carpets, is full of women, all of different age, height, and color.   
Mrs. Moore must be around fifty, dark hair, tall, with narrow nostrils and a square jaw line. She exchanges a few words with Miss Grimshaw and then nods us to follow her. Still unsure of what I should do here, I follow the two women upstairs.   
“You need some girls?” asks Mrs. Moore opening a door to let us inside.  
“No, we’re good, thank you” answers Miss Grimshaw.  
It’s a bathroom, with the same suffused light that doesn’t allow me to understand the environment, but the bathtub in the center of the room is unmistakable.  
“Undress and go inside” orders Miss Grimshaw closing the door.   
“W-with you here?” I ask moving my eyes from her to Molly.  
“We’re all women, my dear” she answers.  
My cheeks get warm as I take my clothes off. It’s been a while since I took a bath in the company of someone else. Last time I was with my mother, many years ago, when she finally understood I was big enough to take care of myself. What a terrible day that was in my child’s mind. I felt it like a punishment for being too grown up while my sister could still have that little moment of sweetness with my lovely mom. But I soon realize this has nothing to do with the sweet memory of my past, and Miss Grimshaw has nothing to do with my mother.   
Soap bubbles and rose scent fill the room as she starts to rub away the mud stains from my skin, mud that I didn’t even know was there, but she is so harsh in doing it, that it feels like she is scratching away the flesh from the bones. In the meantime Molly takes care of my hair, and she is definitely more gentle.  
When we are done, I come out of the tub and let Miss Grimshaw brush my hair, thing that appears to be more difficult than I expected.  
“If you only did it more often!” she scolds me when I scream for the pain.  
With watery eyes and muffled sniffs, I put on some clean clothes Miss O’Shea brought for me and then we go back to the carriage.

Dutch approaches us as soon as he sees our coach getting to camp. I’m really curious to know what he wants. It can’t be simple interest.  
“I hope everything was fine” he says.  
“All good” answers Miss Grimshaw with the packet of my dress in her arms.  
He peeks inside and then smiles with appreciation. I start to think my idea was right. I am a cow to be sold.  
“Great. We’ll come back at 7:30 this evening. We can’t be much late” he says.  
“Come back?” I ask.  
“First we have to go to Saint Denis to clean ourselves up and provide us a good suit. We can’t make a bad impression by your side.”  
He winks before going away, making me feel uncomfortable.  
“Meet me inside the house in a couple of hours” commands Miss Grimshaw going away too and I take a moment to look at her back while she heads to the house.  
A couple of hours of freedom and then the agony will start. What am I putting myself into? Anyway, if I think about how that dress looks on me…  
A grumble in my stomach distracts me and reminds me it is lunch time.   
“So? How’s this dress?” asks Sadie when I reach her by the pot.  
“Breath-taking. Literally” I answer taking some stew.  
“Well, let’s hope it will be breath-taking also for someone else and not only for you.”  
I frown at her and notice she has a little wicked smile on her face.   
“What are you talking about?” I ask, even though I fear the answer.  
“Maybe someone tall, dark, with long hair…”  
“Shut up!”

Two hours after, Miss Grimshaw gathers the girls. Abigail and Sadie, thanks to Karen’s curling iron, start styling my hair. Miss Grimshaw brings something for the make up while Molly keeps advising me for how to behave. Then, we move to the difficult part: the dress. Miss Grimshaw is even worse than the tailor’s maiden.  
“To be beautiful you have to suffer” she says pulling the stripes.   
When the torture ends, they all take a step back.  
“You look great!” remarks Sadie.  
“Is something’s missing?” asks Miss Grimshaw.  
“Oh! I almost forgot” exclaims Molly taking the little box with the pearls.  
A knock at the door makes everybody jump.  
“They’re here” murmurs Kieran peeking inside.  
My heart loses a beat. With all the chaos of the preparation I forgot I actually have to go to a party. And even worst, now I have to walk out of this room, with the eyes of the rest of camp on me.   
My ankles, balancing on the high heels, threat to give up when I take a few steps towards the door. I am so nervous, almost scared of what mess I can do tonight, that I feel every part of my body shake. Molly seems to feel my mood, because she comes closer before I can walk outside and puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.  
“Everything will be alright, just remember: high chin and broad smile. And don’t forget the titles when you talk to people.”  
“And have fun for us, too” adds Abigail.  
I give her a smile, take a big breath and walk out. The sun is down, but from behind the hills it still spreads its light, coloring the air of a pale light blue. And… there they are, all of them, talking and glancing from the distance. I carefully go down the steps of the house when…  
“Hey beautiful!”  
I look at Uncle as an involuntary smile draws on my lips. Beautiful, umpf. No-one ever told me that as I wore pants, but now that I have a dress they all seem to notice I’m not too bad after all.   
“I must say you really look like someone else. I have to warn you: if I weren’t so old I’d probably make you some indecorous proposals” says Uncle.  
“Oh, please!” I reply trying to look disgusted, but unable to restrain a laugh.   
“Wait, can I?” asks Uncle reaching out an arm to which I grasp.   
A little bit away, Bill, with a black elegant suit, is talking with Micah, Javier and Charles. Just the sight of him makes me feel like I’m drowning, unable to breathe, with my stomach clutched, and I am forced to fix my eyes on the ground as we approach.  
“Whoa, you really wore a dress to dance with the aristocracy” jokes Micah.  
His words push me to look up, but it is a big mistake, because as soon as I do it, I meet Charles’s gaze and I feel suddenly dizzy. I look away and stumble a little, feeling my poor ankles shaking for the stress.   
“Hey, you’re okay?” asks Uncle putting a hand on my back to support me.  
“Yes, yes of course. I-it’s just this goddamn corset. It’s too tight” I lie.   
“Well, if you want, after the party, you can come in my tent and we can try loosening it a little” says Micah with a smirk.  
“Shut up, Micah!” snaps Charles.  
“Please, can we go?” I beg Bill trying to ignore them.   
I am sorry I didn’t give Charles the attentions I wanted to give him, I’m sorry I can’t spend more time with him so to understand if he finds me beautiful too, but I can’t stand his eyes on me, everybody’s eyes on me, for a second more.  
I take Bill’s arm and we move towards the carriage with Dutch waiting for us.   
“Well, look at this beauty!” he exclaims.  
Just like Bill, he’s wearing a black suit, but he has a top hat as well. Next to him Arthur and Hosea are dressed likewise.   
“You aren’t bad either, gentlemen” I joke performing a little bow.  
“They made a great work, those ladies inside” says Arthur.  
“I think she added something of herself” replies Hosea.  
The only reaction I can have is to blush again.  
“Come on, let’s go” says Dutch giving me a hand to get in. He, Arthur and Hosea come right after, while Bill climbs next to Lenny at the driver place.  
Mayor’s house, here we come!

“I think I’ve never seen you so clean and scented” says Dutch, a big smile on his face.  
“Me neither. I’d dare to say Arthur almost looks like an handsome man” replies Hosea.   
I laugh with them, but if I really think about it, I’ve always considered Arthur an handsome man. Tonight of course he looks different, but we all do.   
“Oh, come on! Look at us! We are ridiculous!” exclaims Dutch.  
“I ain’t never been to a ball in my life” says Arthur.  
“Nor have I, if I’m being honest.”  
“I used to quite often, there could be fine pickings” says Hosea.  
“No no no no. No pickpocketing. We are here to make real contacts” replies Dutch.  
“What kind of contacts?” asks Arthur.  
“Well, I don’t know. We’ll find what we can. All I know for sure is we are going to a party at the mayor’s house and the guest of honor is the worst crook in town.”  
So, this is our goal tonight. Find people we can rob, find places we can rob, find anything that can make us gain some money.  
“Here we are” says Dutch opening the door and going out. Arthur helps me to get down from the carriage and then I take his arm walking towards the gate where a couple of very elegant guards are waiting for us.  
“I’m afraid the mayor does not allow guns at official functions, after last year incident” says one of them studying our appearance. Next to him there’s one of Bronte’s boys, I recognize him from the other day, but it doesn’t seem he recognizes me.  
My companions take out their guns and give them to the man.   
“What about you?” asks Arthur.  
As an answer I shake my head.   
“You don’t have anything?” he asks bewildered making every men at the entrance look at me.  
“What? Where was I supposed to put it? Up my ass?” I exclaim.  
He and Bill snort in a laugh while the guards widen their eyes and exchange a shocked look between them.   
“Not exactly ladylike, my dear” whispers Hosea in my ear.  
I look away embarrassed and take again Arthur’s arm to walk inside.   
“Luca here will take you to Mr. Bronte. I believe he’s expecting you” says the guard.  
“Follow me gentlemen, and… erm, lady. Signor Bronte will be so pleased that you made it” says the boy with a foreign accent.  
“We are honored to be here” replies Dutch.  
We get up the stairs that lead us to the front door. The entrance leaves me breathless. If Bronte’s house was beautiful, this one has no adjective that could describe it. I stop on the huge creamy carpet to admire it with my mouth open. Right in front of me there’s a staircase in mahogany that creates a contrast with the pearl white walls and floor. The columns at our sides go up until they reach the roof from which hangs a marvelous crystal chandelier.  
Arthur next to me, clears his throat and when I look at him I realize he’s staring at me.   
“Can we go?” he asks with a sweet smile.  
I nod, smiling in turn, and we walk through a little door on the left of the stairs while Luca keeps saying words that I perceive like a distant mumbling, so much I am focused on the things around me.  
“Okay. Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte” orders Dutch.   
We climb a little staircase that leads us to the upper floor. From here, we take a door that brings us outside to the wide balcony that overlooks on the garden party downstairs.   
“Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived. And look at this wonderful lady” says Bronte before he turns around and says something in italian to his men. After they all laugh, he grabs my hand, less kindly than I expected, and kisses it.  
I already don’t like the situation. I don’t like the fact that he probably says unpleasant things on us to his men, and that they laugh at us in such an impolite way.  
“It’s a pleasure to see you again” he adds.  
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Bronte” I reply faking a smile and pretending I didn’t understand the insult.  
“This is quite a party you’ve invited us” says Dutch shaking his hand.  
“Yes, quite something, although I’m not quite sure what” replies Bronte.  
“So, this is Saint Denis high society?” asks Dutch.  
“Yes, apparently so.”  
“And all these people, these are friends of yours, Signor Bronte?”  
“No, no, not quite. But they certainly are afraid of me.”  
I look down admiring the men and women with their elegant dresses and sophisticated manners, with their smiles and their feathers fans and thin golden glasses.   
I will never be part of this because this is not where I belong, and, just like I thought, I feel inadequate to them. But this is only for one nigh, just a simple experience. Absolutely not the kind of life I want to live.  
“Like that one. See that wretch? He’s the mayor. Henry Lemieux. He’ll do anything for a dollar and I mean anything” says Bronte chuckling with derision and posting to a man in the crowd.  
“Oh, and that one too. That is Alberto Fussar. He owns a sugar plantation out on the island and he comes here to whore and despoil himself. Oh, oh and that…” he adds now laughing in a hysterical way.  
He addresses one guest and then another, and then another still, describing them all with degrading or mocking words, and he seems to find a sick pleasure in doing so, until…  
“Oh, look. The redskins” he says pointing at two men.  
“I have no sympathy for them because, whoever is stupid enough to be tricked by the Americans, they get what they deserve, huh?”  
Instinctively, I look at Arthur and Dutch and I understand that they don’t like this little evil game, either. As a matter of fact, Dutch clears his throat and tells him we need to go now.  
“Yes, yes, yes go enjoy yourselves and mingle with these vulgar scum. It’ll make you long for the days when you could shoot each other and screw cows out on the open range.”I freeze at his words as the men behind him crack out in a rude laugh. He says this to me. To me! The daughter of a ranchman. If I had my revolver, I would show him how I miss those days “when we could shoot each other”.   
Unable to stand their laughs and looks, I leave Arthur’s arm and run away on my hurting feet. Once inside, I grasp the railing of the stairs and look down taking deep stable breaths.   
What a disgusting man. Why do we have to deal with him? How can Dutch let him say those things about us?  
I realize I’m tightening the railing so much that my knuckles have turned white, while my palm are sweating.  
“Hey, are you ok?” asks Arthur coming next to me.   
“Sure, just a little sick of that man” I say under my breath.  
“Dear Mr. Bronte thought you’ve been offended by his words. I had to tell him you’re not used to corsets and that maybe you weren’t feeling very well” says Dutch with reproach.  
I turn around to face him, ready to yell at his face how stupid he is if he really wants to make business with that asshole. But then, I force myself to think where I am, and that maybe a melodrama isn’t exactly what we need right now.  
“And you weren’t offended? Who he think he is? How dares him to talk like this to me? To us?” I say keeping my voice down, but making him understand I’m angry.  
“You’re right, he’s not the most pleasant man…”  
“Pleasant? He has no respect for anyone. Not even the decency to pretend.”  
“But now you have to calm down. Come on, let’s enjoy the party” says Dutch putting a hand on my shoulder and pushing me away.  
It pains me to admit he is right. We have work to do for now. One day, hopefully, I can make Bronte pay for what he’s said.  
Downstairs, we reach Bill and Hosea again. The latter, seeing my frowning face, asks if everything is okay. But Dutch interrupts him to give us orders.  
“We’ll talk later. Arthur, you go and find the mayor. Don’t steal anything but information. Hosea, you look for some place to rob. Bill, find us some new friends. I’ll try to find out if Cornwall or Milton know where we are.”  
“What about me?” I ask without any interest in the answer. The only thing I’m thinking about is put as much space as possible between me and that italian.  
“They already saw you with Arthur, so I guess the smart thing to do is keep you two together.”  
Completely lost in my thoughts, I take Arthur’s arm and let him guide down the stairs and onto the garden. Luckily, the great number of people helps me distract myself. With a nod of my head, I greet this or that guest admiring furtively their dresses and jewels, and sometimes receiving the same kind of glances in return.   
“Do you have any idea where the mayor could be?” I whisper to Arthur.  
“He was next to the fountain when I saw him from the balcony.”  
“That fountain?” I ask pointing at it.  
“Yes.”  
Mr. Lemieux, with his top hat and thin glasses, is surrounded by a small group of men. We draw closer and listen to their apparently boring conversation, but the thing unexpectedly catches my attention.  
“I suggested that all of us, as Americans, had a duty to take care of people living in this land and that extends to Saint Denis” is saying a man to the mayor.  
“Yes, Mr. Miller, but the Indian problem is not urban, it’s rural. And here in Saint Denis we already have problems of our own” answers Lemieux with his French accent.  
“I’m sorry to object, sir. We’re not talking about a rural problem, but human. An American problem. We want to finish the century still drenched in the blood and guilt of our sins, or we want to make something better of ourselves?” replies Miller.  
I nod slightly as he talks, showing my support without even being aware of it.  
“It seems that you’re actually convincing someone with your strange argument, Miller” says a man on my right.  
When I turn to look at him, I realize he is talking about me, and I can’t help blushing.  
“With whom we have the pleasure to talk?” asks the mayor.   
“Tacitus Kilgore and this is my wife, Harriette” Arthur answers readily.  
“It’s a pleasure. So, Mrs. Kilgore, you seem to agree with the affirmations of Mr. Miller here.”  
“W-well, I…”I loot at Arthur, who nods encouragingly and then to Mr. Miller, who stays there waiting for my words. Remember Fred, when you speak with the society, no swearing and classy words. And attitude especially. Pretend you’re Trelawny. No swearing, classy words.  
“Yes, yes I think I do. We have already caused some enormous sufferances to these people and I don’t see why we shouldn’t look for a solution to some of them” I say.  
“You see, Madame, it isn’t simple to give my support to their cause without facing some consequences” replies Lemieux in a straightforward but kind way. I like him, he seems trustworthy, and honest.  
“It ain’t complex, Lemieux, and only an idiot like you, buddy, would try to make it so” says man between Arthur and Mr. Miller.  
We all look at him and his idiotic smile. He’s definitely drunk.   
“I will not deny idiocy, but perhaps now is not the time” replies the mayor abandoning his courtesy.  
“Typical pansy.”  
“You’re drunk, Ferdinand.”  
“I’m not drunk, you fool, but this man… this man loves darkies” he says pointing at Miller.  
I feel Arthur leaving my arm and right after he takes the man from his shoulder pushing him away.  
“You are pretty drunk. What’s say you and me cool off?” he says.  
I immediately look at the mayor and the rest of the men making a broad smile, just like nothing happened.  
“You’re husband is quite a direct man” remarks Miller.  
“W-well, he… he doesn’t like this kind of behavior, especially at a party like this” I say as an excuse.  
“I think no-one likes drunks” adds Lemieux.  
I smile to myself. If they knew what he usually does in camp when he’s drunk, they would lose all the hair they have on their heads for the shock.  
In any case, they don’t seem offended by what he has done, on the contrary it looks like Arthur relieved them from a heavy burden.   
“Thank you, sir” says Lemieux when Arthur comes back.  
“My pleasure” he answers.  
“I hope you’re enjoying my party.”  
“Yes, that’s quite a place you got here.”  
“It’s not mine and the city is horribly in debt, but we can still put on a good show.”  
As he says this, from behind his back some fireworks blow in the air, catching the attention of all the guests. Like everybody else, we move a little closer to watch better.   
Honestly speaking, this isn’t the first time a see fireworks. The first time was during some holiday, I don’t clearly remember which one. My father had brought us all to the city to celebrate and witness this strange sparkling magic.  
“Monsieur, please… Mr. Cornwall was quite insistent, I’m afraid…”   
Like me, Arthur turns his head towards Lemieux as soon as he hears Cornwall’s name. The butler keeps whispering with the mayor for a while before going away.  
“Did he say something about Cornwall?”  
I jump and turn around to exchange look with Dutch. Where the hell he came from?  
“I think so” answers Arthur.   
“Find out what.”  
As Arthur goes away, Dutch takes his place next to me.   
“They really are wonderful, aren’t they?” he asks, talking about the fireworks.  
“Yeah, beautiful. Bill and Hosea?”  
“Somewhere behind us. You had any luck?”  
“Nothing special, but we have a contact with the mayor. Could be useful.”  
When the firework show ends, Dutch and I do as to go away, but Mr. Miller stops us.  
“I would like to keep on with our former conversation, given our equivalent opinions” he starts, but then he notices Dutch is by my side and not Arthur, and so he silences.  
“Oh, of course Mr. Miller. This is our acquaintance…” I say pointing at Dutch.  
“Douglas Chambers, the pleasure is mine, Mr. Miller” he says shaking hands with him.  
“My husband, Mr. Kilgore, had to leave for a minute, but I don’t think he will mind if we start without him.”  
“Oh, of course. So… Before, you showed a good knowledge of this country and its sins, Mrs. Kilgore. And a lot of humanity for the disadvantaged as well. I was wondering… how far would you go for it?”  
“What do you mean, Mr. Miller?”  
I have the idea he is about to ask something from me.  
“A support, a word, a little gesture towards the natives could be of great importance for them and their cause. If one day we’ll need a sign on a document or some help for a formal meeting…”  
“You can undoubtedly count on my support. And my husband’s as well” I say hastily. My only thought right now is to exit from this situation as soon as possible.  
“Good. And your friend here, if he shares our opinions…” Miller keeps saying.  
“Oh, no doubt, Mr. Miller! I’m convinced that everyone should receive equal opportunities in a free country like this. But, sadly, I think we should go now. I reckon Mrs. Kilgore wants to reunite with her beloved husband” replies Dutch  
“Of course, of course. I wish you a good evening, then.”  
Quickly, but trying not catch attention, we head to the stairs, which I climb not without difficulty, and reach Bill and Hosea already waiting for us.  
“What kept you?” asks the latter.  
“A chat about compassion and human decency. Arthur?” asks Dutch.  
“He hasn’t showed up yet. You found something?”  
“Nothing, this town is a waste of time” answers Bill.  
“No, I don’t think so. I think I have a lead, for a bank. A big bank. But it’s not the moment, yet” replies Hosea.  
“I’ve got some interesting movement too. A poker game with high stakes” says Dutch.  
As we hear the door opening, we all turn to look at Arthur, coming out with a satisfied expression on his face.  
“So?” asks Dutch.  
Arthur brings a hand to his chest pocket and nods meaningfully.  
“Good” murmurs Dutch with a smile.  
“Gentlemen, lady, I think we’re done here” announces Hosea.  
Before we go away, I give a last look at the mayor’s garden. It’s been an evening with ups and downs, but never boring at least. Taking again the arm that Arthur so kindly gives me, I walk back to the entrance where the guards return the guns to my friends.  
Lenny is already there, waiting for us. This time, Hosea claims he needs some air and he choses to sit at the driver place while Bill stays with us.  
“I ain’t never felt so awkward in all my life. All them folks, all so pleased with themselves. High society’s pigeon shit. If you ask me, it’s more like torture” he says.  
“Well, that’s sort of the point of it, isn’t it? Let the people torture themselves” replies Dutch.  
“I kind of liked it. There can be interesting people, like that Mr. Miller” I say.  
“So, you’re telling me you’d do that again?” asks Bill.  
“Oh, no no. I think that will be enough for my entire life” I say rubbing my hurting feet.  
In the meantime Arthur takes out some papers from his pocket and hands them to Dutch.  
“Anybody see you take this?” he asks.  
“I don’t think so.”  
As he gives a quick look at them, a little smile appears on his lips and a strange evil light shines in his dark eyes, both signs that nothing good will come from it. For us or for Mr. Cornwall, that I can’t say.   
“I might have an idea, let me think on it” he says in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Writing this chapter has been fun, imagining how it would be wearing a dress like that, participate to a party like that, see something a simple country girl has never seen. I didn't want to push things too much with Charles, at least for now, so he's a little set aside.  
> I hope you liked it!  
> PS: I have received a lot of support recently and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart! Really, it's something beautiful.  
> See you soon!


	25. New Friendships...

This morning it is almost impossible to hold off all the puns the group members are making about last night. Sadie, John, Micah. They’re all mocking me for that goddamn party.  
“Yes, yes I got it! Now I’m a fucking aristocratic!” I shout at the umpteenth pun.  
“Listen, Miss Aristocratic, I remind you that dress won’t walk back to the shop by itself” says Miss Grimshaw walking past me.  
“I go immediately” I reply standing up from the table where I’m sipping my coffee. This way I don’t have to listen to them.  
With the packed dress under my arm, I head to the horses, loading it on Isabella.  
“Good morning, Mrs. Kilgore.”  
I turn around and smile heartily at Arthur.   
“Good morning, Mr. Kilgore. How is going your morning?”  
“Better that yours” he laughs saddling up his horse.  
“Are you going somewhere?” I ask.  
“Mr. Miller asked Dutch a hand for the Indian’s question.”  
Miller? A hand? When? Does he mean last night? He didn’t really ask for a hand, he asked for support. And he asked me, not him.   
“So you’re going to the city?” I ask again. Now I want to know what kind of plan has Dutch to help the natives.  
“You too?”  
“If you come with me to deliver the dress, I’ll come with you to Mr. Miller. I think he’ll be happy to see me again.”

As we arrive in Saint Denis, I rack my brains to remember the road for the tailor. I mistake a few times, but in the end I reach the familiar window with the colorful cloths.   
I give the dress back, the tailor checks it and then I go back to Arthur, who’s waiting outside. Together, we head to that part of the city that I haven’t seen yet, the one with the factories.  
“Where do we have to meet them exactly?” I ask.  
“They don’t know we’re coming” he answers.  
“So… we’re helping them… but they don’t know we are helping them?”  
“Uh… something like that, yeah. They are at the Consul’s office.”  
“And, how do you have this information?”  
He chuckles without answering. I hate them when they play all mysterious.   
The Consul’s office is right in front of the police station, so to reach it we make a great parade in front of some policemen who study us from head to toe. We maintain calm and nod to them a good morning to which they reply. If they only knew who we are.  
Mr. Miller is already there, knocking insistently at the consul’s door, with the two Indians we saw last night at the party.   
“Hello? Hello? Open up, please. Come on… we have an appointment!” he calls at the door.  
We exchange a look and then we slowly approach them. I am really really curious of what Arthur will say, of what Dutch’s plan is.  
While we get closer, one of the natives sees us and calls Mr. Miller to make him turn in our direction.   
“Good Morning” I say with a smile.  
“Hello. I think I know you” he replies narrowing his eyes and studying our features.  
Poor man, I don’t blame him. We are completely different form last night, me especially. With trousers and revolver and my hair down, I am another person.  
“Mr Miller, we presented ourselves as Mr. and Mrs. Kilgore yesterday evening” I say.  
“And, these are your real names?” he asks with a knowing smile.  
“Fred Faraday, it’s a pleasure” I say reaching out a hand that he shakes.  
“Arthur Morgan, at least sometimes.”  
“Can I say something rude?” asks Miller as he fixes his eyes on him.  
“Sure.”  
“The mayor thinks you robbed him.”  
Arthur and I exchange a look. How is this possible? How does he know it was him?  
“To be clear, he wasn’t very upset about it. He rather liked you” adds Miller.  
“Okay…”  
“Do you… well, I mean to say… can you steal things?”  
“Is there a reason you’re asking me to incriminate myself, Mr. Miller?” asks Arthur now changing attitude. He doesn’t seem to like this sort of provocation, and neither do I, if I’m being honest. What does he want to prove?  
Miller moves his eyes from Arthur to me, and I frown waiting for his next move.  
“Well, I’m sorry. Have you met?” he says changing topic and pointing at the natives by his side.  
“This is Rain Fall, a great chief, and his son, Eagle Flies.”  
“Gentlemen” says Arthur.  
“Nice to meet you” I add.  
“We saw you on the wagon train, crossing the river at Cumberland Falls. And at the party, you were upstairs” says the older of the two, with a deep and calm voice.  
I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but I think of Charles, with his beautiful deep voice when he speaks too close to my ear and makes me shiver.  
I immediately push away the thought and shake my head vigorously. I must focus here for now.  
“Well you have great powers of observation” remarks Arthur.  
“Yes, my people, if we are even a people anymore, we fought hard, we’ve made peace treaties, and those treaties were broken, and we’ve been moved and punished and punished and moved. And now I am told we are to be moved again.”  
“Clearly contravening the peace treaty signed three years ago” Miller informs us.  
“This will lead to war” says the young man on my right.  
He has a face with sweeter traits than his father and long black hair.   
Again, the image of Charles, seated next to the campfire, as his long hair cover the sides of his face, making him look so handsome, pops in my mind. Oh Lord, those hair, I wish I could touch them again.   
I send the thought and feelings away with more decision. Why? What’s happening to me this morning?  
“No, my son, it will not. We cannot fight another war. They have got stronger and we have become far weaker, Mr. Morgan” replies his father.  
“Now… Miss. You showed willingness to help yesterday and I was wondering, was that part of the show? Or you really want to help?” asks Miller.  
“Of course.”“No.”  
Arthur and I speak at the same moment. I turn to frown at him. He just said Dutch wants us to help them, so why has he changed his mind now?  
“Why not?” I ask.  
“It’s to do with oil” says Miller before Arthur can answer me.  
“I know it is, but I need proof. I believe there were some prospectors who were on their land a few months ago who have filed reports with Leviticus Cornwall and the State Government, claiming huge reserves of oil under their land” he explains.  
“So, you want us to try to steal it?” asks Arthur.  
“We can do that” I reply.  
Now, it’s Arthur’s turn to frown at me.  
“We’re talking about Cornwall!” he complains.  
“Listen, I realize is a ridiculous request, but we are very desperate” adds Miller.  
“You can count on us” I say.  
“No, I’m not a do-gooder, Mr. Miller” Arthur replies.  
“But I want to help.”  
“We already have problems on our own. We’re wanted in two states, we have a bounty on our heads and the government hates us almost as much as they hate them” says Arthur and just now I understand what he means.  
We are talking about Cornwall, about the government, and it’s too dangerous for us to interfere. If they find out we are here in Saint Denis, we are all dead.  
“We can pay you” Rain Falls says suddenly.  
“There’s no need” I reply. If Arthur says we can’t, then we can’t.   
But the chief’s words have the power to change Arthur’s mind again apparently.   
“Well, if you pay us, okay.”I’m about to complain, but I have no chance because Rain Falls takes the floor first.  
“You meet my son in a couple of days near Citadel Rock, just West of the oil fields. We are real grateful for your help.”

“What happened back there? Why you changed your mind?” I ask as we head back to camp.  
“We need money.”“Even if we’ll have Cornwall’s men at our backs again?”“You wanted to help them, right? Well, now we’re helping them.”“I just want to do the right thing” I murmur.  
“You won’t do nothing! I’ll go to meet Eagle what’s his name.”  
“Forget that! I’ll come with you. I want to follow this story until the end of it.”  
Silence falls and my mind starts roaming. I think about Rain Falls, the sadness and weariness in his voice. I think about Eagle Flies, the anger and restlessness in his eyes. Unlike him, I hope a war won’t break out.   
When we reach camp, we find Miss Grimshaw in hysterics.  
“Mr. Morgan, we have a problem, a real problem” she says without even giving us the time to dismount our horses.  
“What kind of problem?”  
“It’s Tilly, she’s been taken by them Foreman brothers she used to run with. Come along!”  
Tilly? Taken? How's that possible? How did they get into the camp? Again, this sounds a lot like what happened with Jack.  
“The Foreman brothers? What are they doing here?” asks Arthur.  
“Well, I don’t know what they’ve been doing here, but I can tell you what they’re going to be doing here: dying!”  
“You need a hand?” I ask.  
“Me and Arthur will handle this. You take care of the camp while I’m not here” she orders before going away.  
Who the hell are the Foreman Brothers? What do they want from Tilly? I really feel the need to go with them, but I trust Miss Grimshaw and if she says she’ll take care of it, she will. I know I don't have a great relationship with Tilly and the other girls, but if something should happen to them, I would still feel bad. After all, we're almost as family now.  
Still not completely calm, I turn around and head to camp. Walking near the tents, I see Mary Beth and Karen whisper among them, and as I pass by, they stop to look at me. I ignore their gaze and go take some stew, before sitting at the table to eat.   
I hear their footsteps behind me and understand they are coming even before they actually enter in my field of view. Karen clears her throat before sitting opposite to me, Mary-Beth takes the chair to my left.   
“Miss Grimshaw told you where Tilly is?” asks the former with half embarrassment, half sullenness.   
“Apparently, the Foreman Brothers took her” I answer coldly.  
They exchange a look full of worry.  
“You didn’t go with her” remarks Karen.  
“She didn’t want to. Arthur is with her.”  
At my words the girls’ faces relax a little. I am sure that, just like me, they think Tilly is in safe hands with Arthur and Miss Grimshaw. They care about each other, after all, just like they were sisters. And now that I am part of this group, I have to take care of them too.   
“I don’t understand why you hate me so much” I say unable to restrain myself.   
“It looks like you can’t stand me. If I’ve done something that offended you, I apologize.”  
They look at each other again, surprised by my words. Then, it’s Mary-Beth who talks.  
“It’s not for something you’ve done, it’s for how everybody treats you. You have a lot of attentions, they make you do a lot of things, like that party yesterday. I can only dream to wear a dress like that.”  
I frown. They blame me for the treatment I have in camp? That’s stupid. No-one gave me anything, I took it, working and showing everybody what I can do. So the fault isn’t mine. But of course they don’t know, because they only see it from the outside.   
“I see… I guess I’m just… I’m just sorry that we can’t get along well” I say.  
“Well, maybe… maybe we can” replies Mary Beth.  
I smile at her and she smiles back. Karen limits to a nod, but it’s a good start anyway. Perhaps I’m finally making them change their minds.

Miss Grimshaw and Arthur come back with Tilly a few hours later. Apart from some scratches, the dusty dress and a slight shaking voice when she speaks, she seems to be fine. The Foreman Brothers, whoever they are, won’t bother her again.   
Before the sun goes down, I decide to make a little work around camp, when I hear someone calling my name. Mary-Beth is stretching up a hand. She, Tilly and Karen are all seated together, whispering and giggling.   
“Happy to know you’re already feeling better Tilly” I say walking closer.  
“We were thinking, we should know each other better, don’t you think?” she replies making sign to sit next to her.  
“Better how?” I ask accepting her offer, but unsure of what I have to say.  
“What can you tell us about you?”  
“That you don’t already know? Well I… I have no idea.”  
“Come on! It’s between us, between girls, no need to be shy” says Mary-Beth.  
“For example: it’s true what they say? About you and Charles?” asks Tilly.  
“W-what?”  
I can lie with the words, but my body betrays me instantly. My voice is shaky, my cheeks already warm. “Oh! So it’s true!” exclaims Mary-Beth.  
“Shhh. Please, be quiet” I whisper bringing my hands to cover my face.  
“Pff, everybody already knows, sweetheart. There are no secrets in camp” says Karen.  
“Just out of curiosity, what do they say?”  
“Oh well, that you two like each other, that they saw you holding hands, that you go hunting for hours, or just disappearing from time to time…”  
“Okay, okay, I got the idea.”  
I sigh and shake my head. Fucking Bill can’t keep his mouth shut. And I’m pretty sure Arthur and Kieran have something to do with this too. Talking about Kieran…  
“What about you Mary Beth? How’s going with Kieran?” I ask.   
“Well…wait. How do you know…”  
She narrows her eyes and looks at me with suspicion, making me laugh.   
“Kieran told me he likes you. I don’t think he’d be happy to know I’m telling you, but… to hell! It’s between girls. Between us.”  
“He really told you he likes me?” she asks curious but embarrassed at the same time.  
“He hasn’t actually told me, but he made me understand it. Where is he, by the way?” I say looking around.  
“I have no idea. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him for the entire day” she replies.  
Dutch told him not to go around because of the O’Driscolls and, what he does? He disappears for an entire day? That boy really wants to get into trouble.  
As soon as I see him, I’ll tell him a word or two.


	26. ... Old Rancors

It’s the fourth day here in Shady Belle, the first that I don’t have to go to Saint Denis. I missed spending a little time in camp, cooking with Mr. Pearson, playing with Jack. I also missed spending some time alone, at peace.   
That’s exactly what I do. I go far from camp, far from the house, far from everything and everybody, looking for a quiet little spot under a tree with a view on the Lannahechee river. Here the soil is softer, I’m sure because of the swamps, the air is wetter and the silence is broken only by the frogs jumping in and out of the water.   
I take out my gun and start cleaning it, an operation I haven’t done for a while, and it’s perfectly visible. The revolver is stained and it needs a little oil. Until some months ago, it would have been unthinkable for me to find my father’s gun in these conditions. But now, I don’t know why, but I can’t give it more importance than it needs: it’s a gun, which I really care about, that’s true, but just a gun anyway.  
It’s some steps behind me that bring me back to reality and remind me of where I am. Even though I’m curious to know who is disturbing me, I don’t turn around, but wait for him or her to announce themselves.   
The unknown figure doesn’t talk, just keeps walking with a slow pace until reaches my side and sits down next to me. Only now I turn and smile to him.  
“Am I disturbing you?” asks Charles.   
Yes, I came here for a reason, which is being alone. Of course you are disturbing me. But it’s Charles, can I say something like this to him? No, never. So, I simply shake my head and smile again.  
“Arthur and Trelawny?” I ask.  
“They’re gone.”“Let’s hope this ferry job turns out better than the last one.”  
He grunts as an answer and I look at his profile. I know he is as much worried as I am, but he is so good at hiding his emotions. Really the opposite of me.   
“How was the party at the mayor’s house?”  
I raise my eyebrows at the unexpected question. Why is he asking me about it now? It’s been days ago.   
“It wasn’t bad, but it’s not the kind of environment that I like. I prefer spending my time in simpler places, with simpler people” I say with another smile. I hope he gets the allusion to him.  
He grunts again and nods slowly. No, I don’t think he got it. I’d like to tell him more about that night, the people, the dresses, the fireworks, but none of it would be interesting to him. He doesn’t seem to care about these things. But maybe I have something that can actually interest him.  
“At the party we met a man, Mr. Miller” I say, and when he looks at me I know I have his attention.  
“He talked about a tribe of natives who have a problem. It has to do with their lands and the government. The next day, Arthur and I met them. They really look like good people and so we thought of helping them.”  
“Why are you telling me?”  
I stare at him and my heart sinks. Is he annoyed? Is he angry? Maybe he doesn’t want me to talk about Indians? Maybe he isn’t interested?  
“I don’t know, I guess… just to talk” I mumble looking down.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”“Why you apologize?” he asks.  
“I don’t know…I….you’re confusing me” I chuckle.  
“Am I?”  
We stare at each other again, and for a moment I believe I can actually see the electricity between us. All my instincts tell me to do what I’ve been wanting to do for a time now: kiss him. But just in the end, as always, I look away and push the thought far from my mind.  
“Hey, what’s that?” I ask as some movement in the water catches my attention.  
“It’ll be a fish” he answers.  
“It looked bigger than a fish” I reply standing up to look better in the water.  
“I heard Javier saying there are some really big in this lake” he says doing the same.  
From under surface, a couple of jelly eyes come out from the green muddy water, and what I see under them doesn’t really look like a fish.  
“Err, Charles, I don’t think…”  
I have no time to say anything else that the alligator jumps out from the lake opening it’s jaws. I feel two hands grabbing me from behind and pulling me away. I lose my balance and fall on the ground, right on my back that now starts to hurt like hell. Ignoring the pain and with my eyes still fixed on the huge beast now taking another jump, I jerk up and Charles pulls me away again, to a solid and safe ground.  
“Okay, that wasn’t a fish” says Charles panting slightly and with his hands still around me.   
I raise my eyes to look at him, and as soon as our gazes meet, I burst out in a laugh. 

Trelawny, Arthur, Strauss and Javier come back the morning after. They tell us they finished really late the night before and so they decided to spend the night in a hotel in Saint Denis. Besides, it seems that things didn’t go as planned and to escape from the ferry and the mess they made, they had to make a pleasant swim in the lake.   
“It’s lucky that you weren’t with us, John, or by now we’d had to rescue you from Saint Denis jail. Or worst, from the bottom of that lake!” says Arthur laughing.  
“Why? Couldn’t he swim like the rest of you?” I ask.  
“You want to tell her?” asks Arthur to John ironically.  
John sighs and rolls his eyes, suddenly embarrassed.  
“I-I… I can’t swim” he says.  
I laugh. Not because what he’s said is funny, or because I find it ridiculous. I laugh because I am surprised he is embarrassed of it.  
“And you are ashamed of that?” I ask.  
“And you, stop it!” I scold Arthur who in the meantime is sniggering like a child.  
“Oh, come on! Who’s unable to swim?” he jokes.  
“Someone who’s never been taught?”  
“Ahh!”  
With a gesture of his hand he stands up to go away.   
“Don’t listen to him, John” I say.  
“I stopped listening to him years ago. So, in the end all was good, but for some dead folks and a little swim.”  
“Yeah, more or less. We took a few thousands and a watch that seems to be valuable” says Javier.  
“Trelawny was the usual showoff?” asks Charles.  
“You know him. If he hasn’t the attention of at least three men on him, he doesn’t feel good” replies Javier.  
We all laugh.  
“I don’t mind him. He’s a little strange but…” I start.  
“What the hell…” Javier stops me.  
As silence falls between the four of us, I turn around to follow their gazes and notice a horse coming out from the wood with a man on its back, but something’s wrong.  
I slowly stand up with the others and walk in its direction, squinting my eyes to better understand what I am looking at.   
Halfway from the horse I finally understand. The head of the man has been cut off and placed between his hands. And it’s not a simple body we are talking about.  
As I recognize the man, a huge black hole opens in my stomach, sucking everything within it and leaving me empty and sick. I forget how to breathe, I forget how to talk, and walk and swallow.   
It’s John who finds the strength to pronounce those words that I can’t say.  
“But it’s… it’s Kieran.”  
His voice reaches my ears like an almost incomprehensible mutter, and I turn to look at him with the immediate instinct to start crying. But there is something else that holds me from doing it.   
A little bit further I see Mary Beth, walking through the house yard, smiley and light-hearted like she always is. But while she walks she turns her head towards the figure on the horse, and narrowing her eyes so to understand better, her smile disappears leaving space to an expression of terror.  
I realize I’m walking towards her when I decide to run. I run and run as fast as I can through the yard, but it’s too late when I get to her anyway.  
Her scream is earsplitting, so loud that I’m forced to cover my ears when I reach her. Then, I take her from her shoulders and make her turn around, sparing her that horrid vision.   
“IT’S KIERAN” she screeches at my face.  
All her body is shaking, her eyes wide open, her lips bended in fear and disgust.  
“Don’t look Mary-Beth. Don’t look. Look at me. You hear me? All will be fine” I say, but I soon realize my voice is shaking too.  
“Everybody, get cover! The O’Driscolls are here!” I hear Dutch yelling from the distance.  
My mind doesn’t have the time to process the information I just got that the gunfire starts.   
“Get into the house!” I say to Mary-Beth without thinking and I immediately take cover.   
I blink, one, two, three, four times, I take deep breaths, I rub my face and try to recover clarity. I realize that I took cover next to Abigail and Jack.   
“You should go inside” I tell them, as I stick out to give a look at the O’Driscolls.   
There are so many of them that I can’t even count.   
“Jack, NO!” Abigail screams.  
As I take cover again and I look at them, I see Jack has run out of the hiding, towards the yard to reach John on the other side. As he sees his son, John runs in his direction too.  
Understanding what he’s doing, I stand up and start shooting, trying to give them protection as John brings Jack safe and sound back to his mother.  
“Women and children, inside! Rest of you, hold your ground!” orders Dutch.  
I try to look around to understand from where he is giving this orders, but I can’t see him anywhere.  
“John! I take Jack, you take Abigail, let’s bring them inside!” I yell above the shots.  
“Okay!”  
I grab the child and cover him with my body, running fast towards the house. I expect my body to be hit every moment by a flying bullet, but then I climb the stair two by two and push the front door with my shoulder, getting inside.   
As I let Jack go, I thank all the angels guarding me from up there. John and Abigail get in after me. I leave Jack to her and they go upstairs with the rest of the girls.  
With John, we run out again and take cover, trying to hold off the rest of the O’Driscoll’s army.  
“Everything okay out here? Everyone’s good?” asks Arthur reaching us.   
“All but Kieran” says Charles on my left.  
With every second, more men show up, on foot, at horseback, and with every second it becomes more difficult to try not to get killed.  
“A wagon is coming!” shouts Micah from somewhere.  
“We’re getting overwhelmed. We should fall back to the house” says John.  
The wagon full of O’Driscolls come closer and closer until it reaches the bridge on the ditch. It’s aiming for the yard. Once they reach it we’ll be taken by all sides and there will be no hope for us.  
But the wagon can’t pass the bridge, because someone throws something that really looks like dynamite and makes it blow up with a roar.  
“What the hell is happening?” asks Arthur.  
“Just keep shooting” answers Javier.  
“Come on, let’s get inside” repeats John.  
He is right, the only thing we can do is protect the house. Out here we are too exposed. One by one we slowly retreat until the last of us get inside and we close the door.   
“Get those doors barricaded, quick!” yells Dutch.  
Finally I see him. Where has he been until now?  
Arthur takes an old empty library and pushes it on the ground. Then, together we push it until we block the door.  
“Good, now everyone get these windows covered. John, you take the windows over there. Charles you take the side door there. Arthur, Fred, the windows in the back.”   
I follow Arthur to the last room in the back of the house. There, from the windows, we see more O’Driscolls running from left to right. The bastards surrounded us.  
Arthur breaks the glass and sticks out his rifle to better aiming at them.  
“John, is everyone accounted for?” he asks.  
“Err… I think so” John replies distracted by the shooting.  
“Hey, I said… is everyone accounted for?”  
“I don’t know! I think so!”  
“You want me to go check?” I ask firing my revolver, but missing the black hooded man hiding behind the tree.  
He has no time to answer. From the outside we hear a scream. The scream of a woman, and from the voice it isn’t difficult to understand who that is.  
“Sadie!” I call out.  
She screams again. Without thinking I jump out of the window and run in her direction.   
“Hey! John, cover us” I hear Arthur yelling.  
The screams lead me to one of the abandoned shacks on the back of the house. When I turn the corner the scene in front of me makes me stop for a few seconds. Sadie has two men on her, one blocking her arms from the front and one strangling her neck from behind.   
I raise my gun and fire, but the familiar click makes me understand I’ve run out of bullets.  
I throw the revolver on the ground and take the knife instead, jumping on one of the men and sticking the blade in his chest. One, two, three times I hit him until he kneels on the ground. Then, with a fast and swift movement I cut his throat and let him fall. I turn around to see that the one Sadie was fighting has met the same fate.  
In the meantime, Arthur has reached us and he is looking at the scene with his mouth half open.   
“What? You’ve never seen a woman fight, Arthur?” I joke picking up my revolver from the ground.  
“Are you okay, Sadie?” I ask then.  
“Yes, fine.”  
“We should go back inside” says Arthur, who finally found his voice again.  
“Not before we finish off these bastards! There, they’re coming with the boats” says Sadie running towards some O’Driscolls on the shore.  
Without thinking, I follow her, ignoring Arthur’s complaining about security. We take cover behind the trees and aim at the men inside the two little canoes. In a matter of minutes, we finish them all. But it isn’t enough for Sadie. She is killing the men who murdered her husband, she is finally taking some kind of revenge on them, so it isn’t enough for her. She wants them all. I know.  
“There are some more in the front of the house. Should we go?” I ask finding in her eyes the same light I’ve seen so many times in mine when, looking at myself in the mirror, I swore vengeance for my family.   
“Why not?” she says running away.  
I follow her, but she seems to have acquired a new energy and suddenly she is much faster than me. I see her disappear around the corner of the house and I am too focused on reaching her to see the man waiting for me behind the tree.  
I stop as the hooded man points the rifle at me, and I put both my hands in the air. Sadie is already gone and Arthur still hasn’t come, so I am alone against him.   
The O’Driscoll moves slowly in my direction and cocks his rifle ready to shoot. I don’t know what to do, how to escape from this. Maybe I can try to move faster than the bullet, or maybe to shoot first, or maybe…  
The sound of shattered glass fills the air and the shape of a man jumping out of the window distracts me. Charles lands on the O’Driscoll and with a swing of his axe he opens the skull of the man into two different parts.   
I stare at him with my mouth open as he stands from the ground and comes to ask me if I’m fine. Oh, the things I’d like to do right now if we weren’t in the middle of a war. How amazing can he be sometimes?   
“You’re bleeding” he says.   
I look down and realize there is a cut on the palm of my hand with some shards of glass.   
“The window. Don’t worry, it doesn’t even hurt. Thank you for saving my life.”Together we reach the front of the house where the rest of the group is dealing with the last O’Driscolls. Cowards. They outnumber us for three to one, and they are already running away.   
“We okay?” asks Hosea.  
“I think so, except for Kieran here. Poor kid. Mr. Swanson, would you take this boy and bury him, someplace near, but not too near” orders Dutch.  
“Of course. Charles, help me with the body” says the reverend.  
“No, I’ll do it” I say.   
This is all my fault. I didn’t look for him. Mary-Beth told me he had disappeared and I didn’t look for him.   
“Wait, I help you” says Charles.  
“We need to get this place cleaned up. Mr. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw” calls out Hosea.  
“Already taking care of it” she answers from the distance.  
With Charles and the reverend we carry Kieran on the back of the house, next to the place I was sitting the day before to have a little peace. Now, maybe, Kieran can have a little peace too.   
Swanson volunteers to dig the hole, but I give him no possibility to insist: I want to do it. This is my fault. Only mine. I abandoned him.   
“Someone wants to say something?” asks the reverend when we are done.  
Say? What should I say? I’m sorry? Now it’s too late. Too late for everything. This is my fault. I said I would help him when he was in trouble, but instead I abandoned him.   
I throw the shovel aside and turn around without saying a word.   
What have they done to him? Tortured, for sure. He suffered the pains of hell because of me and my carelessness. They carved his eyes and cut his head. It’s my fault. Only mine.  
With my eyes burning, but incapable to shade a single tear, I realize I have reached the front of the house.   
So many dead people. How many more there must be? Who else must die because of me?   
My eyes lay on a crate on the ground. A little wooden crate, right there, half broken, faded, abandoned. As an impulse takes me, I kick it, as hard as I can, and make it fly to the other side of the yard. I thought I would feel better, but I just feel worse, angrier, with the need to hit something else.  
“Whoa, I wouldn’t like to be that box right now.”  
I turn around and notice Micah, seated not far from me.  
“Poor Kieran had to expect this. No-one runs away from Colm’s rage.”  
Now I have my target. Hit him will definitely make me feel better.  
“And that poor Mary-Beth, she’ll be sooo desperate.”  
“SHUT UP, MICAH!”  
“Ooh, you’re nervous. I can understand. It’s never easy when you lose someone dear” he says standing up to reach me.   
“If you want, we can blow off some steam, together” he adds touching my arm.  
His hands upon me make me shiver and I push him away as hard as I can. He stumbles a little and then grabs me again blocking my hands. The one with the glass cut on it now starts hurting and I let out a little whine.  
“Oh, am I hurting you?” he laughs viciously.  
Just like he grabbed me, he lets me go. Suddenly, unexpectedly.   
“Oh look! Your man is here” he jokes taking a step back.  
Charles keeps walking in his direction and he doesn’t stop until he reaches Micah and punches him right in the face.   
I put both my hands on his chest to try to calm him down, and it’s now that I feel his entire body is trembling for the anger.   
Micah laughs touching his jaw where he’s been hit and spitting on the ground.   
“You know, I keep wondering how you can like someone who’s half black and half redskin.”  
Charles does as to take another step in his direction, but I hold him off.  
“No, no, you’ll get into trouble” I whisper.  
“But then I think that maybe you like to fuck with animals.”  
This is too much. I turn around to face him, ready to break every single bone of his fucking face.   
“It seems it’s me who has to teach you how to ride a real man.”  
As soon as he says this, Charles walks past me, and there is nothing I can do now to stop him. I really doin’t want to stop him. He takes Micah from his shirt and with a strength I didn’t think him capable of, he throws him away, flying high across the yard, and making him land on the red dirt.   
“Hey! Will you stop that!”  
The both of us turn around to look at Miss Grimshaw, her hands on her hips, a severe expression on her face. As she goes away, shaking her head, Charles and I exchange a look.   
I’ve never seen him do something like this to another man. I’ve never seen him truly angry at someone. He never showed all this strength, and if this is what happens when he loses control…   
A really strange feeling rises from my stomach and a little evil thought insinuates in my mind. This time it is something different, this time it is something more physical. I want to jump on him, I want him to touch me with those same hands, those same strong arms that just made Micah fly. I want to feel his body on mine, feel him shaking not with rage, but with pleasure, as he does to me all the things that come across his mind.   
I gulp, moving my eyes away and repressing all my instincts. Micah, still laying on the ground, doesn’t stop laughing to himself. Crazy son of a bitch.   
I feel a hand on my shoulder and then Charles gently pushes me away.   
“Come. Let’s give a look at that hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> I know, I know, Kieran deserved better. I've always liked him, since the beginning, and not for a moment came to my mind the idea that he could betray Dutch, not once really. And then when he goes fishing with Arthur and tells him all that story of his parents, he's so sweet.  
> But...  
> Talking about Charles...  
> The clip when he throws Micah...  
> And in the epilogue when he fights in the streets...  
> Not to talk about when he jumps out of the window and lands on the O'Driscoll like an Assassin!  
> These are the moments when I would JUMP on him! Literally!  
> Anyway I stop with my madness. I hope you liked the chapter!  
> See you soon!
> 
> A little PS: I've heard the news about the protest concerning George Floyd and the police abuses and all I want to say is I'm proud to be part of the human race sometimes, because it doesn't matter where we come from, events like this are able to unite us all and I am with all those who are protesting in these days. #BLM


	27. Cornwall Kerosene & Tar

The camp is oddly silent. Here in Shady Belle there’s always calmness, but not like this. Maybe what happened to Kieran affected everybody and not just me.   
The guilt is haunting me like a rabid hungry dog, and every time I stop it catches us and feeds on a piece of my mental health. I need to distract myself, work, go hunting, take Isabella and go find some job.   
“How’s the hand?” asks Sadie as we drink our coffee together.   
“Better. Charles was great in taking away all the pieces of glass.”“And he also put a good bandage” she adds with a naughty smile.  
“He was very gentle if you really want to know” I say sticking my tongue out in a grimace.  
“Well, lucky you.”  
We both start laughing and being silly, until Arthur walks closer and asks me if I’m ready to go.   
“Sorry, ready to go where exactly?” I ask confused.  
“To Citadel Rock. We have to meet the great chief’s son.”  
“Oh, it’s today?”  
“What do you say?”  
“Idiot” I giggle and hit his shoulder with my fist before heading to the horses.   
To go back in New Hannover we need to ride for hours. We stop only once, near the Scarlett Meadows, to eat something and stretch our legs. When we finally reach the border, thick clouds have already gathered above our heads. It’s going to rain soon.   
Eagle Flies is on a ridge that overlooks the valley, a really good spot to watch the entire oil factory and check the movements of those who go in and out. We dismount the horses and reach him as the first drops fall on my face.  
“You came” says the boy putting down the binoculars and turning to look at us.  
“Of course we came, we said we would” replies Arthur.  
“There’s a foreman, his name is Danbury. He has the files in the office above the refinery room” he informs us giving the binoculars to Arthur.  
“It’s that window with the blind drawn up, you see it?”  
“Yeah” answers Arthur studying the factory in the distance.  
“If the files are as incriminating as we believe, Mr. Cornwall’s men will destroy them if they know you’re coming.”  
“There’s only one of me, son. I don’t intend for them to know I’m coming.”  
As I process his words in my brain, I frown at him.  
“What?” I exclaim making both of them turn in my direction.  
“And what should I be doing? Stay here and watch you?”  
A thunder rumbles above our heads. It’s going to be a real storm.   
“If I go alone there are more chances for me not to be seen” says Arthur.  
“The same is for me. Why can’t I go?” I reply.  
“And what if Danbury is in his office? What if you have to convince him to give you the documents?” he asks.  
Convince him. I know what he means, and he is right, he has more experience with this kind of things and if it should get bad, he surely has more chances than me to get out of there. But I didn’t come here just to sit down and look at him do all the work.   
“What will the files say?” he asks.  
“There’s a report from Leland Oil Development Company” explains Eagle Flies.  
“And you got the money?”   
“Yes.”  
“Any idea how I sneak into this place?”  
The rain is becoming more insistent now, and I dry some of the drops tickling my forehead.  
“You could crawl under the fence or hide in a wagon. They keep rolling in.”  
“Alright, I’ll go take a look” says Arthur going away.  
“If there’s a problem, call for me” replies Eagle Flies.  
“Call for us” I rectify.   
I sit on the edge of the ridge and Eagle Flies sits next to me. We watch Arthur sneak inside one of the wagons that brings him directly inside the factory.  
“Alright, he’s inside” says the chief’s son, who hasn’t took his eyes off his binoculars for one second.  
During all this time, the rain kept falling on us, and now I am completely soaked, a feeling that I’ve always hated. My drenched clothes don’t allow me to move correctly, my hair stick to my face, the water is ticklish on my skin and the cold wind makes me shiver. I hate staying under the rain.  
“Maybe I should create a diversion, give him more chances to get out of there unseen” says Eagle Flies suddenly standing up.   
“Any idea?” I ask following his example.  
“Uhm… What do you think about the tower?”  
“Seems fine. Let’s go.”  
“Oh, w-wait. Don’t you think it’s better if you stay here?”  
“Oh, no. Don’t try that” I cut short heading to the horses.  
I didn’t come here to watch them. I need work. I need distraction.  
The heavy rain and the twilight allow us to get close without being seen. We sneak in from the railway, dismount the horses and enter the yard. The place is full of shacks with all kind of materials and tools inside, which make it easier for us to hide from those employees who still dare to wander outside with this weather.   
“We need something to start the explosion” says Eagle Flies looking up at the tower.  
“Dynamite” I think out loud.  
“You know where to find it?” he asks  
“Search the cabins.”I get to the first on my left. There’s no-one inside, the lights are off and the door is locked. I just need a couple of pushes with my shoulder to make it bust open. I look inside every box and crate, but I don’t find what I need.  
Going outside, ready to search another one, I see Eagle Flies walk towards me with something in his hands.  
“This will be enough, right?” he asks handing me some explosives.  
“Where did you find it?”  
“Down there” he answers pointing at his back.  
Without making further questions, I head to the tower, walking low and hoping the incoming darkness will cover us.  
I place the dynamite all around the tower foot and then Eagle Flies takes a box of matches.  
How can he have a box of matches? Why does he have a box of matches? It doesn’t matter, they are useless. The rain it’s too strong.  
“I can’t light them! It’s raining!”  
“Oh don’t you say!” I exclaim half amused half annoyed by all this crazy situation.   
He looks around shaking his head at my sarcasm.   
“I got an idea, follow me” I say grabbing his arm and pulling him away.  
When we are at a safe distance, I take out my revolver and aim.  
“This way they’ll hear us” he remarks.  
“Because a tower that blows up is silent, right?”   
Again, he seems annoyed by my ironic answer, but I can’t not do this. He says all the most obvious things.  
I pull the trigger, but the noise of the shot is soon covered by the roar of the explosion. High flames develop from the bottom of the tower and spread the yard with a red light. We have just the time to take a few steps back when another explosion happens. The oil under the tower must have been reached by the fire.   
Warned by the blow and by the flames, several men start coming out of the shacks and buildings. It doesn’t take much time before they uncover us and we have to return the fire. I shoot trying not to hit them, but only scaring the shit out of them, to make them retreat, and the same does Eagle Flies next to me, shooting his arrows.  
Among the figures that run from left to right, I spot a very familiar one, with a cowboy hat, coming in our direction.  
I call out for Arthur and, as soon as he reaches us, we run for our life, back to the horses and on the open fields.   
They don’t follow us, too focused on the fire and the danger it represents for the entire factory. Thank God Eagle Flies had this great idea.   
We stop again at the ridge so that Arthur can take his horse back and then we put some distance between us and the “Cornwall Kerosene & Tar” until it is only a red spot burning in the darkness.   
“That explosion came just in time” pants Arthur.  
“You have to thank Eagle Flies. It was his idea” I reply.  
“You helped me. And then, I was happy to see some of that oil burn. So, you met Mr. Danbury?”  
“Yes, don’t worry, he was very obliging. I thought you wasn’t getting involved?”  
“I thought you were gonna enter and leave silently?”  
“Thank you. You saved my life” says Arthur handing him the documents.  
“Thank you. Both” replies Eagle Flies with a nod in my direction.  
“I hope… well, I don’t know what I hope. But who knows, maybe these will be of some use. Here’s your money” he adds taking the money from the saddle and handing it to Arthur.  
“Who knows, maybe we’ll meet again” I say.  
“Yeah, maybe” he replies slowly going away.  
He isn’t so bad. Maybe a little too serious for his age, and a little too angry, but it was fun working with him, making the tower blow up…  
Arthur clears his throat and when I look at him I see he is handing me a part of the money.  
“You know I don’t want it. I did it because…”  
“Yeah, I know why you did it. I’ll put it in the box for you” he says putting it back in his satchel.  
“See? You’re starting to know me. You know where we could camp?” I ask looking at the fields around me.  
“Away from here. Jesus… I can smell the burning oil from here.”  
We head South, away from the factory and from the New Hannover. Arthur reckons it’s better if we get out of the state before they sent the law on us.  
We find a good spot, without rain nor wind, and we light a fire to dry ourselves a little.  
“So… what do you think about Eagle Flies?” asks Arthur out of nowhere.  
“Well, maybe a little impulsive, but he seems a good boy, smart and funny, when he wants to.”“Be careful, Miss, or Charles could get jealous” he replies chuckling.  
I laugh too, not trying anymore to hide what everybody seems to have understood.   
“He doesn’t really look like the jealous type” I say.  
“With him you can never tell. After so many months, that man is still a mystery even for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Soo a short chapter, a funny chapter, nothing special, but that makes understand that everybody knows Fred and Charles like each other. Now, something just HAS to happen between them, right? I think it's the right moment, no?  
> I hope you liked it!  
> See you soon!


	28. Eye For An Eye And The World Goes Blind

“Hey! Wake up! We need to go, wake up!”  
“W-what?”  
I open my eyes to look at Arthur’s dark shape shaking me insistently.   
“What’s wrong?” I ask, but I soon understand what the problem is: in the distance, on the path, there are four men, armed and with their lanterns lighted.  
“The law” Arthur vainly answers me.  
Blindly, I collect all my things from the ground and load them on Isabella. Then, without a sound, we mount up and leave. It must be very soon, or very late, because the sun isn’t visible in the sky yet.   
“Do you think they were from New Hannover or from Lemoyne?” I ask with a big yawn.  
“They could also be from Canada, for what I know! The truth is, we are wanted in too many places and for far too many reasons” he answers angrily.  
I think I’ve just found out one of the things that annoy Arthur most: been waken in the middle of the night.

We almost reach Saint Denis when he tells me we have to split up. He has to go to the Saint Denis trolley station for a robbery.  
“A robbery?” I ask.  
“Bronte told Dutch about it. He kindly informed us there are generally a lot money there and he also gave us the permission to take it.”  
“And don’t you think that could be a set up? What he gains from a robbery at the trolley station?”  
“I have no idea, but Dutch don’t want to lose the opportunity to make some money.”  
Still not convinced of their decision, I let Arthur go and I head back to camp.   
It may be still very early, but Miss Grimshaw is already up and busy and she readily reminds me that I should do the same. I get to work, but I can’t help thinking about this robbery at the trolley station.   
How can Dutch not realize that Bronte might have lied to him? How can he fall in this kind of traps? When I met him he seemed intelligent and diffident with strangers, and now he believes to the bullshit that italian snake says? Moreover, Saint Denis is not like Rhodes, and even less like Valentine. Here, there aren’t just a couple of men with a golden star on the chest to protect the city. Here there is the police. Thousands of men with the uniform controlling every alley and every corner.   
I wonder how it’s going and I really hope that my feeling is wrong.   
The answer soon arrives.   
Just before lunchtime a wagon gets to camp with Dutch and Lenny on it. I immediately understand something went wrong when I see Dutch getting down the wagon with some difficulties and Lenny has to help him.   
With Hosea, John and Miss Grimshaw, we draw closer to understand better what has happened. From close up, I see things I haven’t noticed from the distance: the two men’s clothes are dirty and ripped and Dutch has some blood on his forehead.  
“What happened?” asks Hosea.  
“It was a set up. We got out of it but just about” answers Dutch.  
“He needs to lay down” says Lenny supporting him.  
“Oh, I’m fine! I just bumped my head” Dutch replies touching his forehead.  
“Where’s Arthur?” asks John.  
“He’s coming, he had to get the horses back.”  
“Miss, come. I give you some water to clean Dutch’s wound” orders Miss Grimshaw.   
Before I follow her, I turn to Lenny and give him a quick check. I don’t see blood on him, just some dirt.  
“Are you okay?” I ask.  
“Yeah, don’t worry. He’s the worse off” he replies pointing at Dutch’s back.  
Miss Grimshaw provides me some fresh water and a clean rug and I head to the house and up the stairs. I helped Miss Grimshaw setting the rooms so I perfectly know where to go. But Dutch isn’t in his room, he is in the next one, the one with the gramophone and the old sofa. He’s lying on it, his eyes closed in a suffering expression.  
I knock before stepping inside.  
“Can I?”  
“Of course” he answers without opening his eyes.  
I leave the bucket with the water next to the couch and kneel by his side. Then, I put the rug in the water, squeeze it and gently dabb it on his forehead, removing the blood.   
“How the hell did he fool me?” he murmurs and I’m pretty sure he is asking it more to himself that to me, but I don’t waste the chance to make my voice be heard.  
“I thought that could be a set up. It doesn’t happen everyday that someone invites you to steal in his city” I say.  
“Yeah, I should have thought about that” he replies with a sigh.  
I stop cleaning his face to look at him. Has he just admitted he made a mistake? He? Dutch Van der Linde? Just admitted it was his fault?  
I stare at him I don’t know for how much time, but at a certain point he opens his eyes and looks at me.  
“Something’s wrong?” he asks.  
“N-no, no.”  
I return to my work, but soon we hear some rushed footsteps outside the door and then Miss O’Shea walks inside.  
“They told me what happened. How are you?” she pants.  
“Fine” replies Dutch closing his eyes again after a quick glance at her.  
“But, how did that happen?” she asks.  
“This is not the right moment, Molly. I need to rest for now” says Dutch coldly.  
She seems a little upset by his rude ways, but she pretends not to mind it and walks towards me stretching out a hand.  
“I’ll take care of that” she adds making me sign to give her the rag.  
“There’s no need, the girl is doing a good job. Could you stop breathing on my neck for a moment woman! I need to think!” yells Dutch now giving her a deadly stare.  
She startles and her eyes get shiny and hurt. I’d like to say something to comfort her, to defend her, take her side, but she runs out of the room before I can say or do anything. The only thing I can do is look at Dutch, disappointed and angry, but he is staring at the ceiling now, so he doesn’t catch my irritation.  
Why he had to treat her like this? She was just worried for him, she just wanted to take care of him with her hands.   
With another sigh, he closes his eyes and I go back to my work, but not paying attention to be delicate when I clean the blood anymore. If I hurt him it would be a little revenge for poor Molly.  
“Do you think he’ll mind a little visit?” he asks out of nowhere.  
He who? What is he talking about now? Where has his mind taken him in these last few seconds?  
“We go to his house, we scare him a little and we make him understand he can’t treat us like fools and simply get away with it.”  
Oh, now I get it. We’re back to Bronte.  
“A revenge?” I ask.  
“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

This morning Pearson asked me to go hunt something. The meat was almost finished and, of course, every time someone says the word ‘work’ the entire camp disappears. So it’s Charles and me who had to take care of it, as always.  
He’s been odd today. He’s kept the distance, no physical contact, and he barely talked. Well, I mean, even less than usual. When I’ve asked him if something was wrong, he didn’t answer.   
I spend the rest of the day working a little, but there isn’t much to do today, so I walk around camp, picking up some strange flowers that grow in the back of the house and going to leave them on Kieran’s grave.  
I kneel near the pile of dirt and smile thinking that he would certainly know how to make me spend my time, maybe with some incredibly boring fishing trip.  
As the guilt feelings start, I stand up and walk back, trying to push them away, and it is at this moment that I notice Charles in the distance, seated on the steps of the back porch of the house.   
This is my moment. I need to ask him why he’s been avoiding me today, if I’ve done something wrong.   
“Hey.”  
“Hey.”  
“What are you doing here? Peeking at me?” I joke sitting next to him.  
He lowers his eyes, more serious than ever.  
“What’s wrong? Did I do something that upset you this morning?”  
“No.”  
No. What kind of answer is this? No. What am I supposed to understand?   
I keep staring at him, waiting for a real answer, but when it doesn’t come, I insist a little more.  
“So, what is it?”  
He clears his throat, fixing his eyes to a distant point on the horizon.  
“The other day, when we buried Kieran, I… I hit Micah and he… he said some things.”  
“He insulted you, and you reacted. You had all the right to get angry.”  
“It’s not that. He… he’s right.”  
Right? Charles is saying Micah is right? How can Micah be right? And about what? He makes me worry when he says these things.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Maybe I… I’m not…” he begins, but he’s interrupted by the door behind us that bursts open and Hosea comes out of it, scowling and swearing under his breath.  
“Oh… sorry” he says when he sees us. Then, like nothing has happened, he turns around and walks away, but from his eyes I can perfectly understand there is something wrong. He is nervous. Very nervous. I haven’t seen him like this many times, so I guess that it must be serious.  
“So, what were you saying?” I ask to Charles trying to go back to the conversation.  
“Nothing, never mind” he says standing up to go away.  
What is wrong with everybody? Why they never talk? Why they run away?  
I follow Charles with my eyes until he disappears around the corner of the house and thinking I should insist to make him tell me what is going on. In the end, I stand up with a sign and go after him.   
But when I reach the front of the house, there’s no trace of him. I move my eyes left and right among the tents, then to the horses, then even farther to the scout fire. Nothing. It’s like he vanished into thin air.   
Hosea, on the contrary, is seated at a table, perfectly visible from where I am. My curiosity pushes me to go sit with him, and ask what is troubling him.  
“Are you alright, Hosea? You look worried.”“Well, I am. That… stubborn hothead will do nothing more than cause new troubles.”  
“You’re talking about Micah?”  
How many other hotheads there are in this camp?  
“Dutch” he replies, pronouncing his name with a resentment I didn’t thought him capable of. And besides, I’ve never heard him talking about Dutch like this. I wonder what he’s done to make him so angry.  
“What has he done?”  
“It’s not what he’s done, it’s what he wants to do. He wants to take some stupid revenge over that italian. He says it’s about business, but I’ve known him for so many years I can understand when it’s personal.”  
“It’s for that thing at the trolley station, isn’t it?”  
As he nods, I understand Dutch was talking seriously yesterday. But unlike Hosea, I don’t dislike the idea of seeing some terror on the face of that disgusting man, if Bronte can be called a man.  
“What if it’s really about revenge? Why do you worry?” I ask.  
“O’Driscolls, Pinkertons, bounty hunters, and now Bronte’s men as well? It will put us all in danger. We don’t need that, we need to go away from here, head West again.”  
I know he’s right, this won’t bring nothing good, but in this moment the picture of Bronte’s scared face has a too strong attraction on me.   
I hope Dutch will take this revenge. And when he does, I’ll make sure to be there to see that son of a bitch shit his pants. 

Here we are.   
Arthur and I are riding to a place called Lagras where Dutch, Bill, John and Lenny are waiting for us to assault Bronte’s house.  
This morning, first thing, I went to Dutch’s tent and asked him when he thought to act, when he had planned to get the revenge over the italian.   
He was a little evasive at the beginning, but then I told him I wanted to go with him and his attitude changed. He immediately agreed to let me come - something that never happened before - and told me his plan. I think he was happy that I agreed with him about this.   
Arthur didn’t sound as much enthusiastic as Dutch when I told him, but he agreed on riding together to the swamps. At sunset, I prepared Isabella and we left.  
So, here we are, walking on the muddy paths of this little village in the centre of the swamp, looking for the rest of the group and the boat that should bring us to Bronte’s house.  
We meet them at the dock, talking with the man who should bring us to the other side of the swamp: Tommy. He’s of color, tall, around forty.   
Dutch gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder and as I frown at him, surprised by the way he is treating me today, he tells us all to jump in.   
With six people on it, the boat is particularly heavy, and it goes forward very slowly on the muddy water.  
I’m in the front with Bill. Dutch, John and Lenny in the middle, and finally Arthur with Tommy.   
“Hey Bill, you were sharpshooter in the cavalry, weren’t you?” asks Dutch out of nowhere.  
“What?” exclaims Bill.  
“When we get there maybe you could help with the suppression fire.”  
“I never said I was no sharpshooter” Bill replies turning around to look at him.  
“Oh, that’s right. What was it… the nation most loyal latrine digger, wasn’t that it?”   
A few chuckles start from behind me.   
“Yeah, well I fought and I fought well” replies Bill.  
“So you always tell us.”  
“Taught me something you could do with learning. Them Indians were savages.”  
I couldn’t expect nothing else from Bill. This is what they taught him to think in the army.   
“Watch your mouth there boy. Watch it. The only type of savage in these parts are moonshine swilling, pompous, inbred locals” says Dutch severely.   
I turn around too, so to look at him as he talks. Strange he’s taking this topic so personally.   
“Dutch, I saw things out there…” Bill starts.  
“I don’t doubt you saw things, Bill, but your tiny little mind was too small to comprehend what you saw. What you saw, was people who lost everything to savagery. The savagery of peasants, failure come from Europe to reap some awful vengeance on God’s last creation.”  
I stare at him for an endless time, even when he stops talking. I didn’t thought him to be like this, to have this kind of ideas. So openminded, progressive, different. Not many people in this country think the way he thinks. I know that I doubted him a lot of times recently, but maybe Arthur, Hosea and Charles were right about Dutch: I got the wrong idea about him and all I have to do is give him another possibility, to truly understand who he is and why he does what he does.   
Tommy leaves us on a grassy shore. A little farther, the wall that surrounds Bronte’s property ends with a closed gate on the dock. But we aren’t interested in that gate. We jump the wall.   
As soon as we are inside, we take cover and Dutch gives us our orders.  
“Lenny, Bill, you’re with me. You three, get the left side. If you see a shot, you take it.”  
Me, John, and Arthur: I couldn’t ask for more.  
Low and quiet, I follow them towards the garden. There is a fountain, a gazebo and a lot of ancient statues, like greek or romans, I can’t tell. And then, there are men, guards, more numerous than I expected, and I expected a lot. He really has a lot of protection.  
Arthur finds a good shot and gives us the go-ahead. The Italian gangsters shoot us from the garden and from the balcony in the upper floor, but one way or another they always miss. I’ve heard many things about these people, I’ve heard terrible things, so it is a little of a surprise when I realize most of them aren’t as capable of shooting as we are.   
“We’re coming for you Bronte! So you better send us every man you got!” shouts Dutch.   
With the last shot, silence falls, but we aren’t done still. Heading to the door, Arthur, on Dutch’s order, kicks it in, and we get inside. More men are waiting for us, hiding behind the door frames, the corners, the furniture. It’s like playing at hunting. But none of those we kill is the one we are looking for.   
“He’s hiding somewhere, search the house” says Dutch.  
As they start looking around, I’m stroke by an idea and I grab Arthur’s shirt, catching his attention.  
“He’d be upstairs” I say, making him frown.  
“If he’s really hiding, it will be in the most remote of the rooms. He’s a bastard, not an idiot.”  
Arthur nods and calls John. The three of us climb the stairs to reach the upper floor and find a corridor with lots of closed doors. We scatter and open them, one by one, finding other men hiding in the bedrooms, behind beds and wardrobes.   
The last door belongs to me. It is locked so I have to kick it down. To my great surprise I find a bathroom, and inside the bathtub…  
“Good evening, Mr. Bronte, you remember us?” I joke walking towards him.  
He takes out a pistol that he points to my face and as he pulls the trigger my heart loses a beat and I freeze in my place, ready to feel the pain of the bullet inside my body. But Mr. Bronte seems to be worse than his men with guns and he rather forgot to charge it or to remove the safe, and so the pistol doesn’t fire.   
When he realizes the thing doesn’t work he throws it at us, panicked, and I duck just in time to avoid it hitting my head, but the same I can’t say about John, who entered the room right after me, and now is bringing his hands to his forehead with an expression of pain on his face.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, John” I murmur before turning again towards Bronte.   
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry friends, I… name your price, name your price, everybody has a price…” he stammers coming out of the tub.  
As an answer I walk closer, thinking about all the threats, the insults and the arrogance he showed in the last few days, and I hit him with my knee right under the belly.   
As he whines and beds over John shows up by my side and strongly him in the face so to make him pass away at our feet.  
I look at him to congratulate myself for the hitting, but then I notice he has a cut on his right eyebrow.  
“I’m sorry for your head. Are you okay?” I ask.  
“Yeah, I’m fine. We should kill him?” he asks pointing at Bronte.  
“No, let’s take him to Dutch” answers Arthur from behind us.  
“You carry him. I ain’t touching this piece of shit!” replies John going away.  
I exchange a look with Arthur and shrug.   
“I can’t carry him. Not strong enough” I say heading back to the stairs.  
I expected to hear silence, after we killed all, or almost all, of Bronte’s men, but instead I hear more gunshots and… whistles. The police is here.  
“Come on, we need to get out of here!” Bill shouts from downstairs.  
As Arthur comes out of the bathroom with the italian’s body on his shoulder, I get down and give him cover. Kill Bronte’s men is a thing, but policemen… they are on the right side. It’s us who’s doing something wrong and shoot them doesn’t feel right, just like when we killed all those lawmen in Valentine. But it’s them or us, so I don’t have any choice. I try to injure or scare them, instead of killing them, but I’m not sure that someone doesn’t lose his life in the process.  
We run from where we came from, passing the garden and thought the gate that leads us directly on the dock where Tommy is waiting for us with his boat.  
As we leave the shore and get to safe waters, we sail silently for a couple of minutes, catching out breath, until Dutch decides to wake up our guest.  
“Hey, big man. We gonna ransom you or what?” he asks giving him some tiny slaps on his face to make him recover.   
“Oh, you’re pathetic” answers Bronte with despise when he understands where he is.  
“Oh, am I? Cause from where I’m sitting you’re the one deserving of pity my friend. All your men, all your money, it weren’t no match for a bunch of bumpkins.”  
“You are nothing. You do nothing. Mean nothing. Stand for nothing. Me? I run a city and when the law will catch up with you, you will die like nothing.”  
Then, he moves his disgusted eyes on me.  
“And you, you can dress like a princess if you want, but you are and always be a peasant, living is shit and hanging out with this scum of the earth.”  
Is he still angry for the kick in the balls? Good, I’m still angry for the insult of the other night. Not able to restrain myself, I lift a hand and slap him, as hard as I can.  
“You will never be half of what these men are. They have things that you will never possess. You think you have the power? Good, I guess we’ll see if your power will save you now.”I let out the words like I’m vomiting them, my hands shaking, my voice shaking. I want him dead, he doesn’t deserve to live.  
“So, that’s what you’re great boss taught you, right? That power means nothing. That stupid things like love, family and loyalty means something in this world?” he laughs.  
“Possess this things is like possessing nothing. Maybe you don’t even possess your own men” he adds looking at Dutch right in the eye.  
“A thousands dollars to the man who kills him and sets me free” he proposes.  
We all look at each other with an air of skepticism as Bronte finally understands there is nothing more he can try, nothing more he can say, he is done and gone.   
“So, what are you gonna say now?” asks Dutch.  
“They are even bigger fools than you” replies Bronte, but the despise now is replaced by fear.  
“The law will find you, already the dogs are on their way.”“Oh, yeah. Oh, you’re right. They are good at smelling filth, uh?” says Dutch grabbing Bronte by his hair. Just like I expected, the terror on his face gives me an infinite pleasure, and I can’t help smiling.  
“So filth has got to be disposed of!”  
Dutch pushes Bronte’s head under the green water of the swamps.   
“Your friends the Pinkertons, gonna come and rescue you? You repulsive little maggot!?”  
He keeps him under, his body fighting desperately for air, but there is nothing he can do. Dutch is too strong, too angry for him, and soon he stops moving.   
A soft bump of the boat under me makes me realize that we arrived at the dock in Lagras. Bill and Lenny are the first to get down, as Dutch pushes Bronte’s lifeless body beyond the edge of the boat and into the water. Soon, the alligators climb from the bottom of the swamp and start devouring him.  
“Jesus. What part of your philosophy books cover feeding a feller to a goddamn alligator, Dutch?” asks John.  
I look at him and notice he has a shocked face. Moving my eyes on the rest of them, I realize they all look shocked. Why?  
“The part that covers weakness. It ain’t nice, I know it, but it is us, or him. I figure it might as well be him” replies Dutch stepping on the dock.  
John, Arthur, Bill and Lenny immediately head away,   
but Dutch doesn’t move. He stands there, looking at Bronte’s body while he’s ripped apart by the alligators.   
He seems different now. As the anger left his body, he seems ashamed of his actions. But as he said, it was necessary. No, it truly wasn’t, but at least it was satisfying. And we surely made the world a better place.  
I understand the others were scared by him, by his violent actions, but they can’t blame him. I was angry too, for what Bronte said and did to us in these days.  
I slowly reach him and stand by his side watching the animals roll and plant their fangs in the body, while the blood stain in the water gets bigger and bigger.  
“You’ve done the right thing. I know it isn’t worth said by me, but I truly think it” I say.  
“You really believe in what you said before? On that boat?” he asks.  
I raise my eyes on him and we exchange a strange look. It’s like if now, for the first time after months, we truly understood and accepted each other.   
“Of course I do. I’m sorry I just realized it now. Maybe I could have spared you some of the troubles I caused” I reply with a smile.  
He turns again towards the water with a little “uhm…” that really sounds like an expression of appreciation.


	29. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> The beginning of the end has started! Enjoy it!

I walk out of my tent rubbing my eyes and frowning.  
“Sorry, what time is it?” I ask to Karen waiting for me with her arms crossed on her chest and an annoyed expression on her face. She’s been calling me for while.  
“Almost noon. Next time go to bed early, what do you say?”“I didn’t go to bed late, I had a troubled sleep!”  
“Oh well, your problem anyway. Come, we have a job to do” she says going away.  
“A job? Me and you?”  
“Why? You think I can’t do a job?” she replies turning around to frown at me.  
“No, I didn’t mean it like this, just… ugh, never mind. What kind of job?” I ask heading to the kitchen.  
“We have to go to the Lemoyne National Bank in Saint Denis and check it. Hosea is planning a robbery.”Alright, the famous robbery that will make us gain a lot of money and help us disappear. Hosea is been chewing my ear off for days now.  
“Oh, and Miss Grimshaw says wear a dress” adds Karen.  
I stop to look at her with my mouth open.  
“What dress?”   
“If you don’t have one, ask Miss Grimshaw” she replies going away.  
I roll my eyes and go take a cup of coffee. I can’t wait to leave this place and be done with the Saint Denis society and its fucking dress code.

We take a wagon to reach the city and from there the bank. It’s a big, yellow building with white pillars and a dark front door, but no guards. This is the State Bank and it has no protection? I ask the same question to Karen.  
“Hosea and Tilly have already been here and they noticed that too. Hosea says it ain’t unusual. No-one dares to rob a bank in the city centre” she explains.   
“No-one but us” I whisper making her giggle.  
“We’ve always loved challenges.”  
The room inside is stunning, with the blu and white decorated walls and the dark wooden floor.   
Karen starts talking with one of the employees, making up a story, catching attention, trying to borrow money, faking crying, and I must say her acting skills are as good as Hosea’s. In the meantime I walk around, analyzing the room, the position of the vault, the number of employees and the doors, just like I did in Rhodes.   
There are two things I don’t like about this bank: one, there is no backdoor, so if the police arrives, we’ll have to fight to get out of here; two, it looks like a frequented bank, so there are a lot of citizens inside, and we’ll have to deal with them as well.   
When we get back to camp, we go looking for Hosea telling him what we have found out. No new information, but that isn’t what he wanted: he wanted confirm to what he already knew.   
As we are done, I do as to go away, but he calls me back.  
“Come inside with me. Dutch wants your opinion.”  
I’m taken aback by his words. My opinion on the plan? Me? A no-one? Why?  
When I walk inside I find him seated at the little table with a big map in front of him which I soon understand to be a map of Saint Denis.  
“So, have you found something interesting?” he asks.  
His voice is low, without enthusiasm and without the vigor he usually shows. But his eyes are the most different thing about him today: his eyes are insecure. What happened to him? What of all his charisma? It’s like he took away the mask of the leader and now what is left is the real man behind it.  
I repeat what I’ve already told Hosea and he nods continuously as I speak, but says nothing.  
“As I told you Dutch, the plan we made is perfect. We’ve been there looking and studying the place. I’ve… tasted it as well as I can. It’s a good plan” says Hosea.  
“I know, I’m just nervous, I think. This don’t feel right.”  
“You’re never nervous, that’s been my job all these years” jokes Hosea.  
“I know” replies Dutch chuckling.  
We hear the door opening and some footsteps in the other room. Turning around, I exchange a look with Arthur.  
“Hey, you’re wearing a dress! What’s the occasion?” he jokes drawing closer.  
“The bank” I reply nodding to the map on the table.  
“Look, Karen, Tilly, even Fred here, I sent them all and they say the same thing: there’s no more than one armed guard. And the police… well it’s a city so there’s police, but as far as we can tell, the patrols will all go in this way when Abigail and I will cause the diversion” Hosea still tries to convince Dutch.   
“What you two think?” asks Dutch looking first at Arthur and then at me.  
And now? What am I supposed to say? I move my eyes on Arthur by my side and wait for him to talk first.  
“I don’t see we have many choices. We linger around here we know we’re dead” he answers.  
Yeah, wow, that was useful to reassure him, good work Arthur. I roll my eyes and shake my head slightly before speaking my mind.  
“If we have a good plan, things will work just fine. And we’ve already done it in the morning, when we robbed the bank of Rhodes, so… there is truly nothing we should worry about.”  
“Well I… I think I agree” murmurs Dutch.  
“If we do it in the night there’s the drama of getting into the bank. Can’t do that silently” remarks Hosea.  
“No, okay. Yeah, let’s do it.”  
Dutch stands from the chair and for a moment he reacquires all the strength he has always had.   
“Everyone gets some rest. We’ll do it in the morning. Look smart. Travel lightly” he orders going away.  
“What does it mean ‘look smart’?” I whisper to Hosea as he leaves the room.   
“Just wear something like this. It we’ll be enough” he replies pointing at the dress I’m wearing before addressing Arthur.  
“Gather the boys. They all must be ready for tomorrow.”

The day after arrives fast. Before I’m aware of it I’m getting dressed, putting on another fucking dress, and getting ready for the robbery. See that I don’t have any other place to put my gun, Miss Grimshaw advises me to tie it on my calf with a belt. Not the most comfortable place, especially when I walk, but practical.   
Everybody else has gathered in the front yard waiting for Dutch, Arthur and Hosea, and I reach them as soon as I’m done.  
“Well, dresses definitely make you look more like a real girl, you should wear them more often” jokes Micah as they see me.  
I make him understand how much I value his ideas with an… impolite gesture of my hand.  
“I prefer when you wear pants, they make you look… tough” says Lenny.  
“Thank you, Lenny” I reply with a smile.  
We’re all dressed in a different way today. Waistcoats, ties, bows, fancy trousers. But then, when I move my eyes on Charles, I can’t restrain a smile. He has a dark green suit and a brown coat and… he looks funny. I guess I prefer the normal Charles with his blue shirt and that strange necklace he always wears but that makes him look so good.  
The front door of the house opens before my mind can start making indecorous thoughts and Arthur comes out with Dutch and Hosea.  
I am on a wagon with Charles and Bill, while Hosea and Abigail will take another and the rest of the group will ride on the horses.  
On the road to Saint Denis, Dutch gives us our last orders, finally back to his usual leader attitude, and then we part, so not to get to the city all together and catch the attention of the police.  
Bill leaves the wagon in a little side alley and we walk to the big main street with the bank. We are the firsts to arrive, so there is none of the others, and we have to wait. Nothing worse. This sure doesn’t help my nerves.   
I start pacing, back and forth, checking the revolver, glancing at the road, studying the faces of the people walking down the street. Yes, the waiting makes me restless.  
“Hey” says Charles grabbing my arm as I walk past him for the umpteenth time.  
“Nervous?” he asks.  
“You’re not?”  
“I guess. A little. But Hosea planned everything so…”  
“Yeah, yeah, I know. We don’t have to worry.”His hand on my arm slowly goes down until our fingers touch and looking up I meet his eyes. As my heart starts beating faster, I find the courage inside me and interlink my fingers with his.   
“Just… whatever happens, we meet back at camp, right?” I murmur without breaking the eye contact.  
I know it’s not the right moment, but I wish I could tell him something. Some word that could make him understand how much I care and how much I’m worried that, if something goes wrong, I will never be able to see him again.   
He nods, tightening my hand even more and if it wasn’t for the others, appearing from around the corner with their horses, I would have kissed him. Now, I know for sure I would.   
“Gentleman” says Dutch dismounting his horse.  
“Robbing thieves, ain’t no crime at all. Folks like this, they stole what this country could have been” he keeps on as we all gather around him.  
“Okay, remember. As soon as we get out, load everything on the wagon on the other side of the street and…”   
His words are interrupted by the roar of a distant explosion. The diversion.  
“Ah! “I love that Hosea! He’s a true artist!” he laughs.  
I smile as well, looking at the smoke cloud rising from the building in the distance. Voices and whistles make me understand that all the police in the surroundings is heading towards it. Just as planned.  
I follow the group across the street and then we stop to put the bandanas on our faces. I reach out for the revolver on my calf just in time when Bill kicks the door.   
“Ladies and Gentleman, this is a hold up. Don’t do anything stupid!” yells Dutch.   
Javier and I wait for everybody to walk in and then we close the door, barricading it so that no-one else can walk inside while we are “busy”. Then, I take my place by the window watching out on the street.   
Micah and Charles are already pushing the ten citizens who today came to the bank inside the director’s office, while Bill is bringing him out to ask about the combinations of the safes. Arthur and John are opening the vault.  
I take a look down the street, left and then right, but no sign of the police until now.  
Dutch and Bill put the screws to the bank director to make him confess the numbers and Arthur starts opening them inside the vault.   
“Everything fine out there?” asks John walking closer.  
“All calm” says Javier.  
“Next one!” yells Arthur from inside the vault.  
“Fifty-three” says the director almost sobbing.  
“Fifty-three” yells Bill.  
Again, I turn to look at the street, but this time there are some people. Men. Armed. A lot of them, but they don’t look like policemen. More like… Pinkertons.  
“John. I think we have a problem” I say and my voice comes out unusually calm compared to how I feel inside.  
He gets closer and gives a look outside.  
“Shit. Hey, come out of there! I think there’s the law!” he shouts to the others.  
“Van der Linde!”  
I watch carefully at the street and recognize Agent Milton among his men.  
“Get out here!”  
How the hell did they find us?   
“Come on, Van der Linde, it’s over!”  
All the others reach us near the windows to give a look outside, and right at this moment, Milton does something that makes my heart sink. He turns around and takes a man among the others, bringing him forward at gunpoint.   
“Hosea! Goddammit, where’s Abigail?” says John by my side.  
Panting, I move my eyes up and down the street, but I can’t see her anywhere. If they had her, they’d probably show her too, trying to convince us to come out. But I’m not completely sure.  
“Mr. Milton, let my friend go, or folks, they are gonna get shot unnecessarily” yells Dutch.  
“Your friend? Ah, why should I do that?” asks the Agent.  
“Come on, Milton…”  
“It’s over. No more bargains. No more deals.”   
I squeeze the revolver, staring at him, praying he won’t do anything bad, hoping we’ll all come out of here in one piece.  
“Mr. Milton. This is America. You can alway cut a deal” says Dutch.  
He is taking time. At least I think he is, until he comes up with something. I look around, studying the room, trying to find a way to get out of here. And Abigail? I have to find her too, be sure she’s safe.  
“I’ve given you enough chances…” says Milton and I turn to look at him as he pushes Hosea in the middle of the street, towards us, and then he lifts his gun towards him.  
Hosea first looks at us and then turns around to look at Milton, maybe to tell him something, when…  
I gasp. Someone far far away yells: “Goddammit!” Everything around me slows down, like I suddenly ended up underwater. I hear my own breathing in my ears. In and out. In and out. While my body is completely still, unable to make even the smallest movement.   
My eyes, fixed on the body in the middle of the road, widen even more at the sight of the blood pool creating under it.  
It’s like I wake up from a long sleep. I realize I can move again my arm, so I raise the revolver and hit the window, breaking it and aiming at the men out in the street. The others already started shooting.  
“How are we getting out of here, Dutch?” asks Bill.  
“Hold them up! I got an idea. Arthur, come here!”  
I keep shooting and shooting, but I can’t understand much. It’s chaos.  
A huge bang and a strong invisible force push me against the wall at my left. I hit the shoulder and instinctively lift my arms to cover my face as dust and bricks fill the air.  
A deep whistle in my ears makes me suddenly deaf, but opening my eyes again I can see Dutch, through the thick smoke, signing me to get out of here. Behind him the wall has blown up.  
With my legs heavy and slow, I stumble out of the bank. The fresh air wakes all my senses again and helps me think more clearly. Pulling down my bandana, I take some deep breaths and look at the little alley I’m in.  
I need to get out of here, find Abigail. Take her safely back to camp, and then we need to pack and disappear.   
“Come on! Let’s get on that roof and out of here!” yells Dutch from behind me. Javier, Lenny and Bill run past me and climb the ladder that leads to the roof, but I have no intention to follow them.  
I look to my left, where the alley leads to a gate and back to the main street. I can’t go that way. Definitely not. I look to my right, there the street ends with a wall, too high for me to climb, but if someone pushes me up…  
“What are you doing? We need to go!” exclaims Charles coming by my side and grabbing my arm.  
“NO, I need to find Abigail. Come, help me” I reply taking his hand instead and heading to the wall.  
As I reach it, I turn around to meet his eyes.  
“Remember, we’ll see at camp” I say.  
“Come with us, you’ll be safer.”  
“I have to find Abigail. I need to know she’s safe. Please…”  
We keep staring at each other. Should I… kiss him? What if this is the last time I see him? What if… if they catch him? What if they kill him?  
“Charles come on!” yells Dutch stepping on the ladder.  
“Help me” I say pushing his back against the wall.  
“Wait…”  
“There’s no time, Charles, please!”  
I put my foot on his hands and he lifts me. I grab the wall and hoist until I’m seated on the top of it.  
“Be careful” he says.  
“You too” I reply before jumping on the other side.  
With my heart pounding in my chest and my guts clenched by one thousand different hands, I walk several little alleys, in and out from dark dead ends, go up and down stairs, until I reach again one of the main streets of the city.   
Now what? Look for Abigail? But she could be everywhere and I am risking to be taken with every moment I stay here. If I end up in jail, I can’t help nobody from there.  
Think Fred, think. If they have her, you can go and free her tomorrow. If they don’t have her, she’ll be on the road back to camp by now.   
I start running. I run and run as fast as I can with this goddamn dress on me, until I reach the outskirts of Saint Denis. Here, I take the first unguarded horse. I don’t care who he belongs to, he’ll find the way back home once I’m done with him. I just need to go back to camp and make sure Abigail is there.  
This part of the city is completely normal, with people walking down the streets, merchants, beggars, and churchmen. There’s only one thing which is different than usual: all the police seems to have disappeared. They are probably chasing Dutch and the others on the other side.  
If there is someone up there, someone listening to me, an angel, a saint, God himself, please, please make them all come back home safe. I couldn’t stand loosing anyone else, not after I left them in a hurry. Not after I left him like that.

The camp looks like we never left, the people seem quiet and this makes me fear that Abigail actually never came back. But when I dismount, she is the first who comes out of the house, her face a mask of fear and preoccupation.  
“Oh my God, you are safe!” I yell running towards her a little relieved from the great burden inside me.  
“Where are the others?” she asks.  
“I…”More people come towards me, Miss Grimshaw first of all, followed by the girls, Sadie, Uncle and Mr. Pearson. They all ask me what happened and especially where the rest of the group is.  
“They run, but… I don’t know. There were… Pinkertons and they…”  
My voice breaks as my eyes start burning. I feel so tired right now, tired of fighting, tired of talking, tired of running.  
“They killed Hosea.”I have my eyes fixed on the ground so I have no idea of what faces they have, but I can hear the gasps and sobs. “We have to move. If they knew about the bank they probably know were we are by now. We have to find a new place” says Sadie with a startling coldness.   
“In the meantime we can wait for someone else to show up. If by tomorrow morning they’re not here, we’ll go” replies Miss Grimshaw, whose voice instead is full of emotion. She’s holding back the tears, I can sense it.  
I get to work, forcibly pushing away all the thoughts and feelings, focusing myself only on my work, which now is double, because there is only the half of us.  
“No, there’s no need to take that. Leave it here” say Miss Grimshaw when Tilly starts taking Hosea’s things.  
That’s it, that’s the final blow. I turn around and run out of the house. I don’t care where I’m going, I just have to go away, me and my weakness.   
Yes, that’s how I feel, weak. So, weak I can’t contain the crying anymore, so weak that I can’t even…  
Something on the ground makes me stumble and I fall on my knees. I cry, sob, gasp for air, cough, spit. Milton that pulls the trigger, Hosea’s body on the ground, Charles’ eyes before I left him. The fear, the anger, the desperation. Where are they? What if they took them? What if they killed them?

When I finally find the strength to stand, darkness has already fallen. I walk back to camp where Pearson prepared something to eat and Sadie brings me a plate, but I don’ eat. How could I eat? Just the idea makes me sick.   
I stand by the fire, dried up from all kind on feelings. The fear, the worry, all went away, washed by the tears. Every now and then, Karen or Mary-Beth give me a look, searching for comfort or trying to comfort me, I don’t know, but I pretend not to see them and keep my eyes on the flames. I reckon I’m going to stay here all night. Who will be able to sleep?   
“Fred?”  
I look up at Karen and she points me something in the distance. A shape is coming out of the wood.   
I start running without thinking, without even knowing who I’m running towards. I run, run, run, passing the bridge and finally recognizing the man dismounting the horse.  
“Charles. Oh my God, you’re here!” I yell throwing myself against him.  
My arms tighten around his neck, my hands grab his hair, my heart blows up with a joy that I can’t contain.   
“You’re here. You’re safe” I pant as new tears run down my cheeks.   
He holds me too, this time not shyly, not barely touching me, but he pulls me against him, with his heart hammering against his chest.   
“Charles!”  
“You’re back, son! You’re back.”  
As I hear the others approaching I reluctantly let him go and dry my eyes.   
“What happened to the others?” asks Abigail.  
Charles takes a moment before he answers, looking at Abigail, then at the ground, then at me and then at the ground again, nervous, tired, distraught.   
“Lenny’s dead” he murmurs.  
I feel like someone kicked my stomach.   
“John’s been captured.”  
I look at Abigail when she brings a hand to her mouth. Putting a hand on her shoulder I nod meaningfully, reassuringly, to make her understand we’ll do anything we can to rescue him.  
“The others are on a boat that will take them someplace away from here. They’ll be back as soon as they can.”  
Away? Where? How much time they’ll need? Well, it doesn’t matter now, what’s important is that they’re safe. They’ll come back. I’m sure they will.   
“You want to eat something, son?” asks Uncle to Charles.  
“Yes, maybe.”  
“Come” I say taking his hand and leading him to the campfire.  
As he eats, they keep asking him things: how they got away, where did they hide, why they waited so much to take the boat, how did Lenny die, until Miss Grimshaw tells everybody to go away and leave him in peace.  
“Come on, he needs rest” she says driving everybody away, so that now it’s just Charles and I.  
“Sadie thinks it’s better if we move, find another place to camp. I agree with her. If they knew about the bank who tells us they don’t know about this place?” I say.  
“Maybe I know some place where we can go. It’s a little north from Saint Denis. But we’ll have to throw out the people who stay there” he answers.  
“Okay, it won’t be a problem.”  
I keep staring at him, with that question that’s been buzzing in my head since he came back fighting to escape my lips. They already asked him a lot of things, but not this one, not the important one, not what I want to know.  
“Can I ask you something?” I say incapable to restrain myself.  
“Ah-ah.”  
“Why did you split from the others?”  
“When Dutch and Arthur and the others had to take the boat, there were some guards on the dock, and they couldn’t get there. So I volunteered to be bait, distract them so they could flee.”“B-but, why? It was dangerous, what if they had taken you?” I exclaim, furious he took such a dumb decision.   
He smiles at my concern and then looks up at me.  
“I lost them fast, they were no trouble for me. And then…”  
He has something strange now, some new inflection of his voice that I’ve never heard before, some new light in his eyes.   
“I couldn’t get on that boat, I had to come back to you, I promised I would.”  
I gulp.  
“Yes. Yes, you did” I murmur.  
“I needed to know you were safe too” he adds.   
“When we hid inside that house and Dutch told us we had to wait until nightfall, I couldn’t wait, I wanted to get out of there, follow you. Just thinking you were out there, in danger, was driving me crazy. I couldn’t…”  
I give him no chance to keep talking. Taking his face, I push my lips against his. As we touch, everything around me disappears: now there is only him, his soft hair, his broad shoulders, his warm lips. I feel his taste and swallow his breath just like all my life should depend from this.   
His hands on me make she tremble and I sink my hands in his hair, opening my mouth to let his tongue inside. The things I’m feeling in my body push me to straddle him, gasping as for one second our mouths part from each other. I wish so hard he could take me, here and now, as everybody watches. I don’t care.   
I want this to last forever. I don’t want to stay one second away from him anymore. I don’t want to lose the way he is making me feel.   
I’m safe.   
I’m home.


	30. Lakay

I was right when I thought I wouldn’t have slept at all tonight, and with me, half the camp kept awake. We all had the vain hope that someone else would have shown up. Stupid, right?  
As the sun arrived, Charles, Sadie and I were ready to leave. Now we’re heading to this place Charles knows. It’s a little muddy village in Lagras populated by some curious folks. He says he run into them some time ago and that they shouldn’t be more than ten men. In the meantime the others will move the wagons and everything.   
If I described Shady Belle as barely livable, this place seems intolerable.When we came here with Dutch to take our revenge on Bronte it was at night and the situation didn’t seem so critic, but in the morning the wetness of the air rises and it sticks to my skin and the high temperatures make an awful smell come out of the water. How can people live here?  
We get down our horses and follow a little path which winds between the trees that deep their thick roots in the stagnant water, until we see a couple of shabby shacks. Idling among them there are five or six men as shabby and dirty as the buildings are, if not worse.   
“Alright, we take those on the left. Charles, you deal with the ones on the right” whispers Sadie.  
We move low and quiet rounding the big house, when we notice something interesting.  
“Look, it’s a trapdoor. We can use it to get them from the back” suggests Sadie.  
We climb through it and follow the house perimeter until we find a door and get inside. There are blankets and clothes on the floor, but no people. From indoors, we reach the front of the house and peek outside from the broken planks.   
“We have a good cover from here. We should start shooting” I say.  
“You’re right” she answers.  
She takes out her gun and gives me no time to take mine, starting to shoot like crazy at those unaware poor bastards. The only reaction they can have is bring their hands on their heads and run around looking for some kind of cover that doesn’t exist.   
Charles comes out from the other side and finishes those few still standing. They didn’t look dangerous. Maybe the only kind of weapons they had are axes and machetes. To dispose of the bodies, we throw them in the water, knowing that the alligators will take care of them. Then, we sit on the porch steps of one of the two houses and wait for the others to come.  
“What about Hosea and Lenny’s bodies?” I ask, my mind incapable not to think of them.   
“You think we’ll be able to take them back and bury them?” I add.  
“We can try. But… I don’t know where we could find them” replies Sadie.  
“They will be at the police station in Saint Denis. They take there the bodies of the criminals before they bring them to the morgue” says Charles.  
“I know where it is. It’s a very external part of the city, next to the factories. It shouldn’t be hard to get there without alert the law” I say.  
“You think it’s a good idea? Go back to that city after what happened?” asks Sadie.  
“We have to. We can’t leave them there.”  
“And we’ll go at night. So we have more chances not to be seen” adds Charles.  
“And about John? We need to rescue him.”“One thing at a time. We still don’t know where he is. We’ll try to find something about him too” replies Charles.  
“We must. Or Abigail will kill us all.”We stare at each other and he nods reassuringly. He seems so calm, so strong, so fearless. Me, every inch of my body is shaking with fear, my mind restlessly thinks of the worst possible scenario. The dreadful feeling that I’m losing everything again won’t leave me.  
As we spot Miss Grimshaw and Mr. Pearson in the distance, leading the caravan now counting only three wagons, I prepare myself to a day of hard work to make this mess we find ourselves into our new home.

As we all sit together to eat, and I struggle to put something in my stomach, I notice a change in our group: among the sad faces, one is missing.  
“Where’s Molly?” I ask.  
“Who knows. She disappeared a little after you left for the bank robbery” answers Miss Grimshaw.  
“Trelawny too, he left last night, when he thought no-one would see him” adds Mary Beth.  
Well, I would expect that from Trelawny. When everything falls apart, those like him are the first to disappear. But Molly? Why she left? And why she left after we went to Saint Denis?  
Sadie, Charles and I tell the others about the idea to rescue Hosea and Lenny’s bodies. They agree and reverend Swanson even tells us about a good place where we could bury them: it’s in the surroundings of Lakay, but on a dryer and prettier ground than the swamps.   
“We’ll go tonight. I think it’s better to do that as soon as possible. They don’t expect us coming” I say.  
“Then go to sleep. You and Charles. You both haven’t rested last night” replies Abigail.  
I try to fight against this decision, but she gives me one of those looks that admit no reply, and so I give up, but I already know I won’t be able to close one single eye.   
When we’re done with lunch, Charles leads me inside the big house, where we put all our things, blankets, cots, personal effects, and where we are all going to sleep. I chose to put my things in a little space on the floor between Abigail and Jack and Mary Beth. Charles sleeps opposite to me. This is the closer we ever got.   
I sit on my blanket and lay my back against the wooden wall. I feel tired, but that kind of tired that you feel only inside your head, whilst your body is ready to run for miles. As a matter of fact, my eyes are wide open and my mind is far away from here.   
Where are they? Are they fighting? Are they resting? How are they coping with all that happened? How is Dutch reacting at Hosea’s loss? And Arthur? Are they already planning their revenge?  
Revenge against whom? This is not the same thing that happened with my family. Back then, I had someone I could blame. This time, who can we blame? The Pinkertons? Of course, but surely we can’t plan a revenge on them. It would be suicide.

Maybe I have fallen asleep and what I’ve seen was a dream, or maybe I’ve just been lying down with my eyes closed and imagined it. In any case, when Charles calls me, I thank the fact that my “rest” has ended. I need action.   
Looking out of the widow, I realize the sky is dark. The others are all in the next room, dozing or contemplating the nothingness. Our mood isn’t great right now. Charles and I take what we need, say our goodbyes and then walk out.   
“It’s raining” I remark.  
“Good, it will hide us. Come, let’s take a wagon, it will be easier for carrying the bod… for carrying them.”The bodies. You can say that, Charles, because that’s exactly what they are. And who can we blame for that?  
We take Taima and Isabella and tie them to one of the wagons. Charles lights a lantern and hangs it on the hook next to the driver place, then we get on and leave.   
The swamps are ugly in the night, frightening, full of shadows. In the coolness of the night, and under the thin rain, I take one of Charles’s arms as he drives, feeling his heat, taking a little relief, and summoning all my courage.   
It’s not the darkness that scares us, but what’s hidden in it. Never wiser words where uttered. And I surely don’t know what shit is hidden among these trees.  
I turn my head to look at Charles’s profile. He’s always so calm, at least he seems calm, but maybe there is a storm inside him right know, maybe he is hating this rain too, maybe he is scared of what could jump out of the darkness too, bet he doesn’t show it.   
My eyes on him make him look back at me and I smile, watching the little drops of water running down his cheeks. We don’t need to talk, just the way we look at each other is everything I need. No explanations, no… Well, actually I wish he could explain to me why that day we went out hunting he treated me that way, with such an unusual coldness. And why he didn’t want to tell me what was wrong.  
“What were you about to tell me that day? You remember? You acted kinda strange all the time and then you told me something about Micah and that he was right. Right about what?” I ask.  
“Ahh, never mind” he shakes his head and looks away.   
“Come on! Don’t be shy” I insist.  
“It doesn’t matter.”  
His face and the tone of his voice worry me, suddenly so detached, so cold.  
“Please, don’t hide things to me.”  
We look at each other again, and I can tell he is sorry he upset me.  
“Do you remember what Micah said?” he asks.  
“He insulted you.”  
“Yeah but… his exact words.”  
Why is this so important for him? Why does he care about what Micah said. That asshole and his opinions shouldn’t touch him.   
“He said something like: ‘his half black and half redskin’” I reply.  
“He said ‘I still can’t understand how you can like someone like him’.”  
“Yeah it’s the same. Why do you care?”   
“Cause he’s right. How can you like me? I’m a half-blood, I have nothing to give you and I’m an outlaw. You deserve better, you should live a better life, away from…”  
I raise my hand and cover his mouth, forcing him to be quiet and look at me.   
“Listen… first of all, it was me who decided to live this life. I chose this path for myself and I’m never walking back. Second… I don’t care what you are, where you come from or anything else. I like you for how you are, and you are the best man I’ve ever know, Charles. Third, if you ever, ever listen again to what Micah says, I swear, I’m going to kill you.”  
I take the hand back and notice he is still thoughtful. He stares at me, silent and frowning, and I can’t hold myself back from giving him a kiss. A little one, right on the corner of his lips.   
“Now, focus on the road.”  
“Yes, ma’am.”

We reach the outskirts of Saint Denis in silence and as we approach the police station, Charles turns off the lantern. We leave the wagon to the back entrance where there is a heavy iron gate with a thick lock. Charles takes a step back studying the wall and I know what he is thinking.  
“We can climb to go inside, but how will we make the bodies get out from here?” he whispers.   
“We need the key” I say pointing at the lock.  
“They must keep it inside the station. Any idea how to get it?”  
We need a plan. If Dutch was here, he would surely know what to do. Or Hosea. Yeah, Hosea. He would put on a real show to get those keys. I smile at the idea. Yes, I’ll put into practice his lessons.  
“If there is something Hosea taught me, is that a little performance sometimes can help” I say.  
Charles looks at me, not understanding what I’m talking about, so I decide to show him. I take the knife from my belt and place it by my left eyebrow.  
“Whoah! What are you doing?” he exclaims grabbing my arm to stop me.  
“I’ll make them think someone attacked me and I’ll steal the keys.”  
“Why you have to cut yourself?”  
“You want to punch me?” I ask sarcastic.  
He looks at me for a while and then lets me go. I push the blade against my flesh until I feel the known sting and the warm fluid mixing with the cool rain.  
“Do I look attacked?” I joke taking the belt with the gun to leave it on the wagon. I am soaked by the rain and bleeding, they must believe me.   
“You should be running” says Charles when I aim to the door.  
“You’re right” I say and speed up a little.   
Reaching the door I notice there are no guards outside. Wonderful. I push roughly one of the doors and stumble inside the warm lighted room giving the policeman the most desperate look.  
“I…. I have… please, please…”  
He stands and walks closer to check on me. There is only him in the room. I tell him someone jumped on me as I was walking home and he believes me without blinking an eye. Then, he makes me sit and I ask him for some water, so that when he walks to the other room I start looking for the keys. The aren’t hard to find. There is a hook on the wall next to the bounties. I grab them and run outside.  
“I guess we don’t have much time before he realizes the keys are gone” I say to Charles.  
We find Lenny and Hosea on a cart in the backyard. They aren’t the only ones, there are around five corpses in total, but just the sight of them two makes me feel sick, breathless, and I have to walk away, so it’s Charles who has to take them back to our wagon. I am sorry to leave all the burden on him, but I can’t look at them, left aside touching them.  
“Are you okay?” he asks.  
“Yes, I’m sorry, it’s just… let’s go. We need to leave Saint Denis, before they recognize us.”  
It’s a lie of course. There isn’t a single soul out in the streets tonight, with this weather.   
We put the keys on the lock, so that they will blame a negligent policemen for their disappearance and cover Hosea and Lenny with a blanket not to catch any attention.  
“Hey” Charles distracts me, putting a hand on my shoulder.  
“You sure you’re okay?”  
“Yes, yes, I told you. I want to get out of here.”“They were good men. Now they’ve finally found peace.”I gulp as a couple of tears mix with the rain. I hope Charles wouldn’t notice it, but he does.  
“It was a mistake, sometimes things like this happen” he says drying my cheeks from the water and the blood.  
“What if it wasn’t a mistake? When they asked for my opinion, I said it was a good idea do it in the morning. It was me who helped them convincing Dutch to do this robbery. He didn’t feel it right, but we convinced him.”  
“You can’t blame yourself for that.”“And who can I blame?”  
“Nobody. You don’t have to find someone to blame to be angry and hurt for the loss of someone.”  
Wise and just. His words have the power to put my mind at ease. He may not talk much, but he knows what to say and when to say it.   
As we head back, my mind goes again to Arthur, Dutch, Bill, Javier and Micah. Are they alive? Where is that boat leading them? It must be awful to be at see with a weather like this. I hope none of them suffers from sea-sickness like I do. Oh gosh, I should say it to Mr. Pearson and see what expression he takes on. 

“Hi Karen, Tilly” I say to the two girls, sitting next to them.  
“Hey, Fred.”  
Tilly is washing some clothes, Karen is staring into the nothingness, a half empty bottle in her hands.   
“How are you?” I ask moving my eyes from the bottle to her face.  
“Well, I guess we’re good” answers Tilly while Karen keeps ignoring us. Maybe she isn’t even doing it on purpose.  
She’s been drinking since we buried Lenny and Hosea, two days ago. We brought them to that place Swanson knows, and we’ve done a pretty thing, all together. We said some very nice words about them, we cried, even Miss Grimshaw dried some tears, we sung a little goodbye song, and then we came back here, in this Godforsaken place. Karen is the only one who hasn’t recovered yet.   
“There’s something I can do for you?” I ask.  
“Fred, look. Sadie’s back.”I turn my head to watch the woman at horseback approaching camp. Finally, she’s back. Abigail saw her too and she is already running in her direction.  
“So, what’s new?” I ask drawing closer.  
Sadie looks first at me and then at Abigail. Bad news? I hope not.  
“They sent him to Sisika. For now they’re uncertain between forced labour or the hanging” she says.  
Abigail gasps and shakes her head with despair.  
“But they don’t reckon it will come to that” adds Sadie to reassure her.  
So John isn’t in danger for now, even though they sent him to Sisika, and it won’t be easy to make him break out of there. We need more men, we need a plan, we need Dutch and Arthur.   
“What about the other thing?” I ask.  
“I left the letter at the post office. The house is still free, too, and I haven’t seen lawmen in the surroundings” answers Sadie.  
It was her who gave me the good idea to write a letter and leave it at the Saint Denis post office and in Shady Belle. If they come back and look for us, they’ll know where to find us. The letter was cryptic of course, so the Pinkertons won’t understand shit if they find it.  
“Good” I say.  
“And there is another thing.”  
“What?”  
“Pinkertons disappeared from the city, just like they’re not interested in us anymore.”“Uhm… that’s odd.”  
“No, it’s not. I thought about it. They have John and they know we’ll try and rescue him. They’re just waiting for us to do it to catch us” replies Sadie.   
If what she thinks is true, then we’ll never be able to take him back without putting somebody else in danger.  
“N-no, no, maybe… maybe they’re really just interested in Dutch. A-and maybe when they found out he took the boat, they stopped looking for him” replies Abigail.  
She’s a smart woman, she understood that could be a possibility, but she doesn’t want to admit it. Of course, she doesn’t want to give up on her husband, and I don’t want to give up on my friend.  
With Sadie we exchange a meaningful look and I can perfectly tell she shares our ideas.  
“Yeah, I guess that’s why” I say in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Follow the story and change one thing here and one there introducing a character is fun, but make things completely up imaging how it could be what could have happened is even better and I have enjoyed doing it in these next few chapters.  
> I hope you'll enjoy that too.  
> Lots of thanks and kudos to all of you for the support you're showing me. It's a beautiful thing <3  
> See you soon!


	31. Traditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> I'm so happy you get to read this one, it's one of my favorite chapters. I've always wondered why Charles cut his hair. Reading on internet I found out this tradition is linked with grieving, but for whose death is he sad? Opinions are well accepted :)  
> Anyway, I'll leave you to it (Arthur's voice)  
> See you soon!

I jump. My heart is beating fast, way to fast for someone who’s sleeping.  
“Hey, are you okay?” whispers Mary-Beth in the dark, a few inches from my face.  
“Y-yes, why?” I ask sitting up and drying some sweat from my forehead.  
The room all around me is filled with the breathing and snorting of asleep people. Why the hell did she wake me up?  
“You were talking in your sleep” she says.  
“Really?” I say rubbing my eyes.  
“Yeah. You had a nightmare?”  
“To be honest, I don’t remember. Don’t worry for me, go back to sleep” I yawn.  
She slowly crawls back to her place and I still feel she is watching me, so I turn around and lay down, but my eyes remain wide open. I lied to her: I remember what I was dreaming and, yes, it wasn’t a good dream.  
I wait for a while, hoping that she falls asleep again and soon, and then I stand up to walk outside. I take the backdoor and find myself on the dock that leads to the swamp. I sit down, dangling my legs down and enjoying that little piece and quiet that’s left me until sunrise.  
I don’t have to wait for a long time. Soon the light starts playing with the colors of nature, reflecting on the softly rippled water.   
I was dreaming of Arthur. I don’t know why. In my dream he was on the ground, coughing, and covered in blood. There was nothing I could do, just stay there, desperately looking at him and yelling to hold on.   
Hold on, hold on Arthur, I shouted, they are coming to save you, it will be over soon. No wonder I was mumbling in my sleep, I’m surprised I wasn’t screaming. 

“We’ve almost run out of meat again” complains Mr. Pearson.  
His voice arrives to my ears as something distant and some kind of mechanism inside my head makes me open my mouth to say those same four word I always say: “I’ll go hunt something.”  
“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”  
I look up and notice Pearson’s eyes. He looks sad, like he said something that could have hurt me.  
“It wasn’t a reproach. You’ve done so much. I don’t want to bother you. I’ll send someone else.”“Mr. Pearson, what are you talking about? It’s no bother for me, we all need to eat.”  
I add a smile, but still he doesn’t seem convinced. Maybe he thinks I’m going through enough for now? But we all are. This doesn’t exempt me from my duties.   
“Don’t worry, I’ll go with Charles. We’ll have fun together” I joke and finally my words have the power to make him smile.  
I look around to see if Charles is near, but I can’t see him anywhere. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him for a while. He’s always been around in these days, so his absence bothers me a little.   
As soon as I’m done with the vegetables, I leave Pearson and go look for him. I check the surroundings, the shacks, I even make sure Taima is with the other horses, and she actually is.  
So he’s here, but where? The only place I haven’t checked is the house, but he never stays there, preferring to take watch, or chop the wood, or fetch the water.   
As I walk inside, I spot him in the back of the room where we sleep, seated on a chair and doing something with his hair  
“Hey.”  
“Hey.”  
He has a knife in his hands and he is shaving his head, the sides of his head to be precise.   
“You wanted a change of look?” I joke, laying my back against the wall.  
“This is a ritual. Indians do that.”  
“Really? And why do they do that?”  
“When someone close dies, for mourning.”  
I open my mouth in amazement feeling immediately stupid and rude for my former joke. Why I never count to ten before saying bullshit like that?  
“I’m sorry, I-I… I didn’t want to be disrespectful” I say.  
He stops to do what he is doing to look at me and for a moment I think he wants to tell me that, yes, I’m rather stupid, but then he says something unexpected.  
“Can you help me?”  
“Help you?”  
“Yes, I can’t see myself” he replies handing me the knife.  
“What should I do?” I ask taking the knife, but not completely sure I want to do it.  
“Check if there are spots where the hair is still long. Just don’t touch the middle. I will braid it.”  
I start from the back and pass the sharpen blade on his head being very careful not to cut him. It’s not easy at all and I wonder how he’s done that without any help before. He said natives do that for mourning, but who is he grieving for? Hosea? Lenny? I didn’t thought he cared this much about them. At first I’m tempted to ask him, but then I change my mind fearing he might think I’m too nosy.  
“It’s the first time you do this?”  
“No, the first was when my mother died. I was around thirteen.”  
I look at him, study his profile, looking for a sign of pain, regret, sadness. But no, nothing.  
“I’m sorry” I say.  
He just nods, keeping that straight face and cold eyes fixed on the wall in front of him, barely blinking. Maybe, this is the expression he takes on when he remembers something painful from his past? The way he tries to hide the sadness? I must remember it, so that I know when something is troubling him.  
When I’m done with the shaving I help him braid the hair in the middle and then I move to the front and look at the final result.  
“I must say, you look kinda strange” I say.  
“More or less ugly than before?”  
I slap his forehead taking on an angry expression.  
“Shut up! You’re not ugly!”   
“I think we can say you’re the prettiest of the couple.”   
I open my mouth to reply, but then I realize what he’s just said and close it again, blushing violently. He called me pretty and he said we are a couple, all in the same sentence. Now what am I supposed to say?  
“I’ve got something for you” he adds standing up.  
I frown at him, watching him walk to his bag and take something that he shows me. It’s a little circle with some wires interlaced between them and a couple of feathers dangling from it. Bewildered, I take it from his hands. My face must show my confusion because he immediately explains what I’m looking at.  
“It’s a dream catcher. They say it can catch the bad dreams and negative thoughts and help you sleep better at night. You have nightmares since the disaster in Saint Denis, you talk in your sleep and you wake up before the sun rises.”  
“H-how… how do you know? You…you were asleep.”  
“Well, I guess I was not.”  
He wakes at night to check on me? He hears me when I talk in my sleep or when I get up after a nightmare? And he purposely decided to do something that could make me feel better? How incredible can he be?   
“Y-you made it?” I ask in a whisper as my sight starts to blur.   
“Yes. It’s easier than it seems. You take a…why are you crying now?”  
“I-I’m not. I’m just…”  
I quickly brush away a tear that’s running down my cheek and look up at him. I wish I could say something, but I’m feeling something blocking my words. I clear my throat and swallow, trying to contain myself.  
“Thank you” I say with a thread of voice and forcing a smile.   
He smiles too and getting even more closer he gives me the sweetest of the kisses.

The morning after we leave camp early and head North to find a good hunting ground. I stopped practicing with my bow everyday, so now I’m afraid I will make a fool of myself in front of Charles.   
We stop on a hill with a wide grassy valley just on the other side, and dismounting he says we’ll be hunting deer.  
“Do deers move in a so open space? I thought they preferred the forests to get more protection from the trees” I say.  
“They do. But it’s love season, so they hang around in open fields to fight and get the attention of the females.”  
“You really know what you’re talking about, don’t you?”  
“I’ve been doing this my whole life.”We take the bows from the saddles and then we climb the hill. As we reach the peak, the plain fields open under us, lightened by the morning sun, and they show a group of deers, a large group of deers, more than I’ve ever seen in my entire life.  
“When you shoot, they’ll get scared and run away. So be precise ‘cause we need at least one” says Charles.  
I gulp, feeling immediately nervous. Be precise, yes, I can do that. I guess.  
We get as close as possible and then he whispers to me to get on my knees and aim. When I shoot, I hit the deer on its leg, even though I aimed for the head, and now they are all running in every direction, alarmed by their bleeding and whining companion.  
I hit it badly and the poor animal can’t even walk properly, dragging its wounded leg as it stumbles in the grass. I take out my knife and I’m about to stand and reach it, but Charles puts an hand on my shoulder to stop me.   
“Use the bow again, you need the practice.”  
“What if I miss again?”   
“You won’t."I speed up my movements, taking the arrow and nocking it, but I need to waste time in taking the aim all the same. Use this thing is way harder that I thought.  
I feel Charles’s hands on me and I startle, surprised by his contact. As always, he moves my aim and fixes my position, before telling me to let it go, and, just as always, the animal falls on the ground, dead. He never misses.  
“You see, it’s not too hard. You just need to practice more often.”  
“Well, you know, I’ve been busy” I say rolling my eyes and standing up.   
I give my back at him, embarrassed, frustrated, self-conscious about all my mistakes. Maybe I’ll never learn, maybe it’s just not for me, I have to simply give up.  
Again, Charles walks closer and I feel his body against mine: he tightens his arms around my belly and he places his lips on my neck, leaving a sweet, wet kiss.  
“I’m sorry” I whisper.  
“Don’t be. It’s been hard for you, as much as it’s been hard for me.”  
He keeps softly kissing my skin, up and down my neck and shoulder, and for a moment I close my eyes, letting myself carried away with the beautiful sensation. But then something changes. He grabs my hips, makes me spin around, and then he kisses me differently, ferociously, in a way I would never expect form him.   
He takes advantage of my already weak knees to make me sit on the ground and as he covers my body with his, I know for sure what he wants. And I want it too. I’ve been wanting this for a long time. Every time I’ve been thinking about him in those terms, my body started aching, calling for him, wanting him to stop the pain, and now, finally, it will have what it wants.  
His lips against mine, his tongue inside my mouth, give me no time to breathe. His hands start roaming around my thighs and breasts, stoking and squeezing, eagerly but gently. His hips are strongly pushed against mine, making me feel the change that is happening inside him, how much he wants me. Me too, I try to make him understand, lifting my ass from the ground and allowing our sensible spots to meet each other.  
He stops, looking down at me for a second.   
“What?” I ask.   
“Are you okay with this?”“Yes, of course. Don’t stop” I reply grabbing his head to pull him again to me.   
As his kisses move on my jaw and down my neck again, one of his hands start undoing my pants.   
I’m not afraid, not of him, and I’m not even scared that someone could see us. Right now, there can be one thousand people watching, I don’t care.

I have his arm around my shoulders, my head in on his chest, the horses tied not far from us, the sun warming us.  
I still can’t believe I found him in all this mess: someone who can make me feel so good when I’m with him, someone I don’t want to be parted from forever. Maybe, when the others will come back and things will go back to normal, we can find a place where to live together. Away from this narrow minded country. It doesn’t sound bad: live together.  
“If you had the chance, where would you like to live?” I ask.  
“I don’t know. I guess… I’d like to move North.” “North?”  
“Yeah, I… I don’t think I would stay here…I…”  
He sighs and takes the arm away from my back. Suddenly, he seems troubled.  
“Here I feel… kind of stuck. I don’t know how… I’ve never been good in explaining myself.”  
It is how I thought, he has a world inside him, a world that maybe I will never fully understand and maybe I will never be completely part of.  
“I don’t want to complain, or you’ll think I’m boring” he adds.  
“All I can think of, is that I love you.”I startle at my own words. I can’t believe I said that, but it’s the truth. I love him. I really do, or at least I think I do.   
He looks at me, surprised, shocked, but when I smile, he smiles back. Then, he moves his eyes away, obviously looking for the right words, something he could say, but I save him from the embarrassment.  
“Don’t say anything, please” I murmur giving him a kiss on his cheek.  
We both look again at the fields, the horses, the sun, the distant herd of deers still moving around. Until he decides to break the silence again.  
“I was wandering around the other day and I met Eagle Flies, the boy you and Arthur helped.”  
“Oh, and?”“We talked and he explained their situation to me. I think I’ll go to his reservation and see if they need more help. Would you like to come?”  
“Yes!”  
That place must be beautiful! I’ve heard often about these reservations natives live in, but I’ve never seen one. I can’t believe he wants to bring me with him. Of course with the two of us gone, Sadie will have to do everything on her own, and if something happens…   
“How much time will we need?” I ask with less enthusiasm.  
“A couple of days to get there. Then, it depends on the amount of work there is to do” he answers.  
“Then I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t leave Sadie alone to take care of the entire camp. If something happens she’ll need me.”  
I scoff and pout noticeably, so that make him understand that I really wanted to go with him. More than two days on our own, who knows how it could have been, what we could have done, what he would have showed me.   
“Okay. You’ll be fine?” he asks.  
“Of course I will. The real question is: will you be fine without me?”   
“I don’t know. It’ll be hard, but I think I’ll survive.”  
“Shut up!”

“Every time I leave that place, it’s a relief. I hate it. I hope we can move soon” says Sadie.  
I spur Isabella again so to be at the same pace as hers.   
“Yeah, tell me about it. I think the worst is the smell. I can feel it stick on my skin and my hair, and then I smell bad for days. My only consolation is that the others don’t seem to like it, either” I reply.  
Charles left this morning. We kissed goodbye, I told him to be careful out there, and then he took Taima and went away. Right after, Sadie told me about a plan she has to check if John is really at the Sisika prison. I seized the occasion to get out of that smelly swamp we’re in and do something useful to help John.  
“Have you noticed Miss Grimshaw is a little different since what happened? She seems… kinder” says Sadie.  
“And Karen doesn’t part from her bottle. She drinks day and night” I add.  
“And I’ve seen Abigail cry a couple of times.”   
And I can barely sleep. It doesn’t matter how tired I am, I spend most of the night laying with my eyes open, and then, when finally someone else wakes up, I find my peace and fall asleep. I don’t know to what this is due.  
“I guess we can understand what they feel like. We’ve been through it” she says in the end.  
“You really loved your husband, didn’t you?” I ask without thinking.  
“Yes, I did. Our marriage has been unusual. Generally, people who marry aren’t really in love, but I was lucky: my father chose for me a man I could fall in love with. And you?”  
“If I loved my family? Well, of course…”  
“No. Do you love Charles?” she replies with a laugh.  
I look at her, noticing she is already staring at me, with a little naughty smile in her face. She knows she cornered me.  
“Well… well I…”  
“From your face I’d say you do” she says looking again at the road.  
When we reach Saint Denis, I start looking around, checking the alleys, the corners, the buildings, fearing the policemen could recognize me, or some fucking Pinkerton could come out form nowhere to arrest me, but Sadie was right: the city is calm and still, just like they have given up looking for us.  
“Last time I’ve been here, I’ve heard a man talking about a feller with a hot air balloon and I thought, if we want to check John, we can’t do it on foot, we need something different. With a balloon, we can reach the island without be seen. So, I looked for the feller.”“Yeah, that makes sense. And this man will give us his air balloon to break inside a federal prison?” I ask sceptic.  
“Well, technically speaking, we won’t break inside nowhere. At least, if we keep our good distance. And then… I don’t plan to tell him the truth. We’ll do a little tour, so he can show us the beauties of the land.”  
The man’s name is Arturo Bullard. I have no idea where he comes from, but he surely is a strange feller. We find him at the saloon, pretend we are there for a mere coincidence, and start talking about him and his work. Well, truly speaking, he starts talking, and talking and talking and talking, about everything that concerns his passion of flying, his balloon, the last innovations on the scientific field about air traveling. He says that, in a couple of years, people will be able to fly on some kind of machines called airplane, like a glider but bigger. Crazy old fool.  
Anyway, we ask him if he can arrange a tour on his “magnificent” balloon, to show us how incredible it is to fly, but what he says after messes all of our plans up.  
“Well, of course we need to establish a day that’s fine for the gentleman.”  
“The… gentleman?” I ask exchanging a look with Sadie.  
“Sure. For whom you’re doing all this? If I can ask. Mrs. Adler’s husband maybe?”  
“Actually, he’s a friend of ours. And we hoped we could accompany him” replies Sadie playing his game.  
“Oh, I’m afraid that’s not possible. See, they made a lot of researches and they found out women can’t absolutely fly. It’s bad for their, erm, health” says Bullard.  
“It is, isn’t it?” I say sarcastic and I sense Sadie next to me, snort in a laugh and then hide the thing with a cough.  
“Yes, it is. So I’m afraid your friend should go alone. With me, of course, I will be his guide.”  
We leave him with the promise that we will contact him again when our friend will be ready for the tour and we walk back to the horses.  
“What a pile of stinking shit! What does it mean women can’t fly? Who are we going to ask now?” I exclaim.  
“Don’t worry, maybe Charles can come with us.”“He already has a lot going on in his mind, I don’t want to bother him. But we’ll see. Maybe the others will come back in the meantime.”  
“If they’re coming back.”  
Her last statement makes a shiver run down my back. What if they never come back? What will we do? Move and leave them? And John?  
I look up at the road we are following and suddenly notice something I really don’t like. There are four horses, resting by the side of the path, and next to them there are their four owners, all males, clearly staring at us and waiting for us to reach them.  
I look at Sadie. She noticed them too, but she doesn’t seem intentioned to turn around and find another way. We slow down as they place themselves in front of us, blocking the road.  
“Well, well. Where are you going sweethearts?” asks one with a mustache and a goaty that makes him look like a French painter.  
“Home” answers Sadie.  
The painter makes a sign with his hand and two of his men walk closer to us. One with red hair that seems to be the younger, and one with broad shoulders and a long blonde beard. They take the reins of both our horses to avoid us from going anywhere.  
“This territory belongs to the Lemoyne Raiders, don’t you know that?” asks the man that now I believe to be the boss of the group.  
“No” answers Sadie coldly.  
“Well, now you do. And whoever walks on our territory must pay. But we are gentlemen and we would never ask to two beautiful women like you to pay. So… how about an agreement?”  
“What kind of agreement?” I ask but I soon regret I said that.   
“You can get down your horses, first thing” says the large man with the blonde beard taking the reins from my hands.  
I look at Sadie who stares back. Both of us unsure of what we should do.  
“Come on baby, don’t make me ask twice” he adds.  
Sadie nods and we both do as he says.  
“These are very good horses. I think we’ll take them” says the boy with red hair taking both Sadie’s horse and Isabella. He tries to pull them away, but my Isabella understands something is wrong, and she opposes. The boy swears under his breath and pulls again, harder, and this makes her nervous, until she rears, scaring the shit out of everybody who’s under her.  
From my left, I hear Sadie firing her gun. At least I think it’s her, and I try to take out my revolver, to kill the viking in front of me. But he doesn’t allow me to catch him unprepared.   
With one of his huge hands, he slaps the gun away from my grip and with the other he takes my neck, squeezing and choking me.   
From the other side, I keep hearing gunshots. One, two, three, but I can’t understand who is firing.   
I have to free myself, so I try to lift a knee and hit the man on his crotch, but my aim isn’t good enough, and I kick him on his hip. As a revenge for my act he slaps me with such a strength that I lose my balance and fall on the ground.   
He is on me on no time, taking my throat again between his hands, and forcing me to open my legs, so that he can better place himself on me.  
“You know, I like fighters. I won’t let them kill you, I’ll take you with me, so you can be my little bitch” he pants a couple of inches from my face.   
“If you are good, I’ll be kind to you, but if you’re not…”He tightens my throat even more and I lift one hand to push him away. Useless, he is too strong and heavy.  
I hear some struggle on the other side and then another shot. I have to help Sadie, I have to free myself from this brute.  
I stop pushing him away, and instead I bring my hand to my side where I grab my knife. Then, with all my strength, I stick the blade right above his left hip. He screams and growls, but he doesn’t let me go. He reaches the hand with the knife and takes it, forcing me to pull the blade out of him. Then he blocks my arm onto the ground so that now I have no other way to free myself.  
“What a pity” he mumbles before tightening the hand around my neck.  
I feel the air leave my lungs, I feel the clarity leave my brain. My eyes blink fast, my body fights to free itself, but I know I’m done.   
My first thought is for Charles. The last kiss I gave him this morning before he left, the last view of him on Taima riding away. What will he think when he won’t find me when he comes back? What will he do? I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave him. There were so many things I wanted to say, so many things I wanted to do with him.   
First comes the loud sound of the gunfire, then comes the blood, splatting on my eyes and inside my mouth, and finally, comes the heavy body of the motherfucker falling on me.  
I gasps, taking deep breaths and coughing out the blood in my throat. Sadie comes closer, removing the body from above me, so that I can sit up.   
“Th-thank y-you” I say with a hoarse voice.  
She helps me to stand and I give a look around. She fought and killed three men, while I could barely deal with one. A big one, indeed, but just one all the same.  
“Let’s see if they got something interesting before we go back” she says.   
We search the bodies and the saddle-sacks, but we only find some liquor, cigarettes and a couple of dollars in total. I keep massaging my neck, which hurts like hell every time I gulp, left aside when I talk.   
When we get back to camp, Sadie’s shirt and my face both covered in blood, push the others to ask us what happened. As Abigail helps me cleaning my face, we tell them about these Lemoyne Raiders.  
“They were four. Fucking son of a bitch almost broke my neck” I complain.  
“How did you get out of it?” asks Tilly.  
Sadie and I exchange a look.  
“Well, we kicked their asses of course!” she says.


	32. The Return

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since that mess in Saint Denis. Two weeks since they’re gone and now everyone here is losing hope. But I’m not. Maybe it’s thanks to Charles and Sadie. With both of them by my side, I feel stronger and I’m not losing the will to fight. I have to. We have to. For Jack, Abigail, Tilly, Mary Beth and everybody else. They all deserve better.  
Charles came back and told me a little about the Wapiti Reservation, that’s its name. It seems to be an amazing place, but the natives there have a lot of problems, so it’s possible that he shall go back, and I will surely go with him next time.  
This morning I’ve been awaken by the rain. This weather surely doesn’t help the situation in camp. The ground becomes even more muddy and sticky and we are forced to stay inside. The thing that drives me crazy is that staying inside the house, there is nothing to do, just idle around.  
I’m playing with Charles’s dream catcher, my back against the floor, my legs up the wall, my mind far away from here. Boooring. Everything is sooo boring. I should take Isabella and go. Where? Who cares. Some place. Everywhere, but in this hole.  
I hear the door opening and then gasps and whispers. I turn my head to look towards the entrance and there, soaked, dirty and messy, stands none the less than… Micah.  
I think no-one has never been happier to see him. They pat him on the shoulder and give him some water and they ask him where the others are. I stand and reach him as he tells us they left him in Saint Denis last night with Javier and that they split up so not to catch too much attention. He heard some voices about where we could be and followed them.   
He looks so different, beaten, devastated, his face his hollow, his eyes not sparkling anymore with that evil light. If he’s this bad, I’m afraid to see the others.  
Javier shows up almost one hour after and I immediately notice his wounded leg. He says he’s been shot and captured and his look is not better than Micah’s.  
As he walks past me to go rest and clean himself, with his bended figure and bloodless face, we exchange a look.  
“It’s good to see you again” I murmur.  
“Yes, you too.”  
“You need something?”  
“No, no I’m fine. Just a bath and a comfortable bed.”I smile and nod. I’m really happy to see him again. I was worried for him as much as I was for the others. He may not believe it, but I really consider him as my friend, and when my friends are in danger, I’m always worried.

By mid-morning the storm ends and from the sky falls a thin cool rain that, at least, gives us the chance to go outside and prepare some stew. Mr. Pearson, Abigail and I get to work and manage to finish it before noon. Micah and Javier wake up from the sleep they clearly needed and eat something too.  
I try to avoid to stay inside, and instead I help Pearson cleaning the kitchen table. Abigail is with us, chatting and complaining about the weather, and she is the first to notice the tall figure walking out of the swamp.  
“Arthur!” she exclaims, running in his direction.  
I turn around with a big smile and go after her, but my feet soon stop to look at him, the smile slowly fading away as I watch his skinny and weary figure bending over to hold Abigail.  
“Hey everybody! Arthur’s back!” calls out Pearson.  
They don’t seem to see the change, or maybe they aren’t paying much attention to it, maybe thinking it is due to the long travel on the boat and the strange island Micah and Javier talked about, but there must be something else behind his red and sunken eyes and the sorrowful attitude.  
I greet him, pretending just like the others that I noticed nothing, but when I hug him, I can perfectly feel all his bones under my touch, and I feel a shiver run down my spine.   
Abigail leads him inside and I go take a plate of the remaining stew. He tells us he found the letter in Shady Belle and followed the directions until he found us. The Pinkertons are searching the place, so probably now they know they are back.  
Abigail speaks of John and as the same thought crosses our minds, Sadie and I exchange a look. With Arthur back, we have more chances to rescue him.

With the twilight, the heavy rain returns. What a shitty day! But at least the spirits are lifted by our reunion.   
Seated on the porch steps, regardless of the rain falling on my knees and soaking my trousers, I wait for Bill and Dutch to show up. It could happen any moment, or we could have to wait until sunrise, or even a couple of days. It doesn’t matter. As soon as we’ll be all together again, we’ll leave.  
Some movement from the swamp catches my attention and squinting my eyes I recognize an unrecognizable Dutch. He, always so well-groomed, now looks more like a wild dog.   
“How are you Dutch?” I ask standing up and smiling to his tired face.  
“I’ve been better. How are things lying here?”  
“We’ve been better. We missed you.”  
“Well, we’re back now. You don’t want to come inside? It’s freezing out here.”  
“No, I’ll keep an eye for Bill. He’s the last one missing.”  
“Oh, good to know” he says reaching the door.  
The voices that come from the inside are muffled but I can still understand what they say: Abigail telling him about John, Strauss explaining how we found the place, what happened in Saint Denis, how we buried Hosea and Lenny.   
As I listen to them, another shape comes towards me in the darkness of the already fallen night.   
“Good to see you again Bill. How are you?”  
“I’d be better if someone told me where was you” he angrily complains walking past me to bust the door open. “Well, here you is!”  
I smile again listening to them arguing. I wonder how Bill learned about our hereabouts? I stand up to walk inside and ask him personally, but there is something else that catches my attention.   
Light. Torches. Men. Armed men. A lot of armed men coming from the swamps. I turn around with a heavy weight on my chest and run inside.   
“They’re here!” I yell walking through the door already open.  
“Close the door. Everybody calm down” says Dutch.  
I do as he asks and almost immediately from the outside comes the so well known voice.  
“This is Agent Milton with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. On behalf of ‘Cornwall Kerosene & Tar’, the United States Government and the Commonwealth of West Elisabeth.”  
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Arthur and some other men take out their guns, and I follow their example.   
“We are here to arrest you. Come out with your hands up.”  
I look at Dutch for a sign, a command, something, but he doesn’t even have the time to think that from the outside they start shooting.   
“Everybody get down!” orders the boss, but we have already done that.  
In the chaos of bullets and wood, I look up at the mess of bodies, trying to understand if someone is hurt or if they need help.   
“Fred! Come with me!” exclaims Sadie crawling on the floor.   
I push with my knees and my elbows moving aside people and broken stuff to follow her.  
“Arthur, you want to join us?” she asks when we slither next to him.  
As I pass Charles, we exchange a look and he says a worried, “be careful”. I nod meaningfully and finally crawl out.   
“Let’s use the trapdoor, we will flank them” says Sadie.  
We keep a low profile, getting down the hole in the floor, crouching across the river shore and reaching the other house.   
Standing upright we take the two sides of the front door that gives directly to the backs of the fucking Pinkertons. From here, we will surprise them. But they surprise us first, when they suddenly stop shooting. With Arthur and Sadie we exchange a puzzled look.  
“Now I will show strength and you may mistake it for brutality. There is no escape for any of you. I shall hunt you to the ends of the Earth…”  
Milton’s voice echoes in the yard and with every word uttered, I feel the urgent need to fire my revolver.   
“God, I really want to kill him” I whisper between my teeth.  
“Then do it. This idiot is really starting to irritating me!” exclaims Arthur.  
He kicks the door open and starts blasting. Sadie and I go out right after. Once the Pinkertons are distracted by our fire, Bill comes out to help us. We are four, but I don’t know if out of luck, or because we are really good at it, we manage to kill half of them. When the remaining assholes decide to take cover in the swamps, we chase them, taking them out one after the other.   
Lawmen or not. I don’t feel any remorse. I’m protecting myself, I’m protecting my family, the people I love. I won’t allow them to take us. Any more of us.  
But those we are dealing with weren’t the lasts. More come from our left and now we are risking to lose control.  
“Get on that Gatling gun Arthur!” I hear Sadie yelling and turning around I spot the cart with the charged gun on it.   
My distraction costs me. One of Milton’s men manages to get close enough to grab me. He tightens the wrist that’s holding the revolver and with the other hand he pulls my hair. I scream and stump his feet. He pulls again so that now my throat is exposed. He pushes my own arm towards me, and I start to understand what he wants to do: he wants me to shoot myself.   
“Put your heads down. I’m swinging this around!” shouts Arthur.  
Shit! Get down, get down, get down!  
I let my own knees to give in, so that the man can’t hold me anymore and he finally lets me go. I hit my ass and my back on the ground and at the same time the Gatling starts firing.   
I roll on myself and cover my head with my arms so that when the man above me gets shot, his blood and guts don’t fall on me.   
The noise of that killing machine is so loud that my ears hurt, but it is so powerful that it puts an immediate end to the fight.  
When I can’t hear anything but the deep ringing echoing in my brain, I stand up and give a look at the disaster around me. The blood is mixing with the mud, the bodies have been dismembered by the force of the Gatling bullets, the air is filled with the smell of gunpowder and human entrails.   
“You saved us, Arthur” says Dutch coming out of the house with the rest of the group.  
“Well, me and… Sadie and Bill and Fred…” he pants.  
Then, just like the effort of talking is too much, he bends over to cough. I walk to him and put a hand on his shoulder.   
“You okay?” I murmur.  
“Sure… sure” he replies with a gesture of his hand.  
“What do we do, Dutch?” he adds, but I can perfectly hear he isn’t truly well. His voice is hoarse, his breath is short. What happened to him on that island?  
“Well, clearly we need to leave. It’ll take them some time to regroup. Mr. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, start packing up. Javier, you and Bill get out of here. Go scare off any scum still loitering about… we need a couple of days.”  
At Dutch’s orders, people scatter and Arthur waits for all of them to go away before speaking again.  
“What next, Dutch?”  
“We just need some time. I-I just need some time. Now we can’t go East, cause then we’ll be in the ocean, so we’re gonna have to go North, I guess? I just need somebody to buy me some goddamn time, one of you” he adds raising his voice in frustration.   
He’s stressed, I can understand. They have just come back, everything went to hell again, and we all depend from him. He has a lot of responsibilities burdening him.  
“What are we gonna do about John, Dutch?” asks Abigail.  
“John?”  
“He’s in jail.”  
“W-w-we’ll get him… Abigail, just… not yet.”  
After all this, I guess John is the last of his thoughts. He’s tired, he needs rest and some quiet time. He isn’t able to think of a plan to rescue him right know, but he doesn’t need to.  
“We already have some kind of plan, Dutch. We could organize something and…” I try to say.  
“Yes, yes… we’ll see. Maybe… give me some time to think about it.”  
“You don’t have to. We’ll take care of…”“I said I’ll think about it” he repeats with anger.  
“There’s talk of hanging him” says Abigail.  
“It’s not gonna come to that” he snaps going away.  
“How do you know?” I ask.  
“I know!”  
There he is, the Dutch I’ve always hated, the one who takes bad decisions, the one who thinks to know everything. He isn’t going to rescue John, not for now at least, thinking he is perfectly capable to save himself, maybe. Just like Arthur? When he came back half dead?  
“I’m begging you three. He’s… they’re gonna hang him. It would break my… the boy’s heart. Please, do something” says Abigail lowering her voice and addressing Arthur, Sadie and me.  
I take her hand and look at her in the eye. I don’t care if this will go against Dutch’s will. We can handle it perfectly without him. He’s not the only one who must make plans.  
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of that” I say.   
She nods thankfully and goes away.   
“Okay, I’m gonna go figure out how we rescue this bastard” says Sadie.   
“Now?” asks Arthur.  
“Yes, now. Meet me at Doyle’s Tavern on Milyonne Avenue.”  
“You need me to come with you?” I ask before she goes away.  
“No. I’m just gonna contact Mr. Bullard and tell him to get ready. See you in the morning.”  
“Who’s this feller?” asks Arthur in bewilderment.   
“Oh, you’ll see” I answer.  
“Hey, are you alright?”  
I turn around and meet Charles’s worried gaze. I smile to him, trying to be reassuring.   
“Yes, we’re fine. You?”  
“I’m good. We managed to save our things from the fire.”  
“The… fire?”  
“When you got out of the house a bullet hit one of the lanterns on the wall and a fire started. Don’t worry, I took your things, but we need to move on the other house, at least some of us.”  
“Okay. Come, let’s help Miss Grimshaw. We have to clean this mess.”  
Miss Grimshaw decides that I’ll stay with the other girls in a corner of the other house. As we settle, I sit on my blanket and take the dream catcher, playing lazily with it.   
How did they find us so quickly I wonder? It seems they disappeared from the surroundings once Dutch and the others got on that boat and as soon as they came back, they appeared again. How did they know they were back? Who informed them? And who did they follow back to camp? Probably Bill. He’s stupid enough to be followed and not even be aware of it.  
Despite all these thoughts and questions buzzing in my head, as soon as I put my head down, the weariness wins me, and I finally fall in a dreamless sleep.

This morning I left early, before the others could even wake up. I opened my eyes when the sun was barely visible on the horizon and I decided to join Sadie in Saint Denis. I know where to go: Doyle’s Tavern on Milyonne Avenue, it’s the same place Sadie and I met Mr. Bullard for the first time.   
When I reach it, the tavern is open, but there’s no trace of Sadie inside, so I sit down, order some coffee and wait patiently.   
“There you are” she says coming in from the back door.  
“You found the man?” I ask.  
“Yeah, he’s waiting for us. What about Arthur?”  
“He should come any moment now.”  
We sit and talk for a little while we drink. Just like me she thinks Dutch is a little different since he came back, she thinks it is a mistake not to rescue John immediately, and she thinks Arthur had a really bad time on that island, because he still brings the signs on his body.  
Speaking of the devil, the door opens and his white face makes its appearance. It’s just like he hasn’t rested during the night.   
“You had any problems coming in?” asks Sadie.  
“Nah” he answers.“Well, I think they don’t know we are still in the city.”  
“Who? Mr. Milton and his friends?”  
“Yes, it’s like they had disappeared since you were gone, and then showed up all at once when you came back” I answer.  
“What happened there?” asks Sadie.  
“In Guarma? Nothing good.”  
“Dutch seems… different” I add.  
“Yeah, I know. Seems that what began happening in Blackwater, began happening years ago, maybe. A slow decline, I guess” says Arthur heading out again.  
“What do you mean?” asks Sadie.  
“I ain’t quite sure.”We mount on the horses and follow Sadie. As we ride we talk a little more about Hosea and Lenny, about Dutch, about the letters Sadie had the great idea to leave, about how Charles found Lakay and how we moved in.  
We get to talk about a lot of things, but the only thing I want to ask Arthur is if he feels alright, if he’s seen a doctor or he wants me to go with him for a visit, but unfortunately I don’t find the courage to do it before Sadie starts talking about the plan to rescue John from Sisika.   
Finally, we reach the outskirts of Saint Denis and there we find it: the big and colorful air balloon.   
“Mr. Bullard!” calls out Sadie as we dismount the horses.  
“Ah! Mrs. Adler! Miss Faraday! Good to see you!” greets the man coming out of the basket like a rabbit out of the hole.   
“This is our friend we told you about. Mr. Morgan.”   
“Ah yes. Arturo Bullard, at your service, sir, at your service” he replies with a deep bow.  
“Arthur Morgan.”  
“Well, it’s a nice fresh day for flying, sir. A day like today and Icarus would have made it across the sea. You ever flown before, sir?”  
“No.”  
“Oh, it’s quite a thing, quite a thing. Now… put these on and hop in” says Bullard taking some kind of glasses and handing them to Arthur.  
He looks at them for a second before throwing them away and turns to look at us with a puzzled expression and a shrug of his shoulders. I smile at his annoyance.  
“Well, ain’t them coming?” asks Arthur pointing at us.  
“Don’t you know, Arthur? Women can’t fly” I say sarcastic exchanging a look with Sadie who smiles back.  
“You can’t?” he asks.  
“Oh, no, sir, does terrible damage to them…to their…vapors. Are you insane?” exclaims Mr. Bullard.  
I can’t stop being irritated by his words, but at the same time Arthur’s expression is worth everything.  
“Where’d you find this guy?” he asks.  
“I thought you two would get on” laughs Sadie.   
“Are you sure about this?” he asks to Bullard.  
“Certain, sir. Quite certain. Missus… wish us luck!”  
“You boys have fun” says Sadie and we both laugh and wave our hand as Arthur looks down at us, the balloon already lifting in the air with a great speed.  
Sadie thinks it’s better if we follow them on the horses, just in case they need something, and so I mount up and get ready for the ride.  
“You think Arthur already pushed him out of the basket?” I joke.  
“Well, who wouldn’t?”   
“God, I would, especially after all the bullshit on the vapors…”  
“Shhh” Sadie stops me pointing something ahead of her.  
I look up and follow her finger until my eyes meet the two men at horseback riding ahead of us.  
“O’Driscolls” she whispers.  
“Good Lord, Sadie. Don’t you think it’s time to…”  
“Shh, I want to listen” she says spurring her horse and getting closer without being heard.  
I roll my eyes and reluctantly do the same. The two are unmistakably O’Driscolls. Long black coats, short hair, one has a couple of bushy sideburns.   
“So what do you think they will do now? Help us get him out of there?” is saying one.  
“Didn’t you hear them? They won’t help us. We’ll have to do it on our own” replies the other.  
“Take him out the prison is impossible.”  
“Yeah, I know. That’s why we’ll do it at the execution. They’ll put the rope around Colm’s neck and that’s when we’ll rescue him.”  
“Hello, gentlemen!” yells Sadie suddenly, making me look to her in shock.  
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper.  
“Who are you?” asks the younger as they both turn around.  
“So, Colm O’Driscoll will be hanged publicly? Can I ask you where and when?” she says with a calm voice, just like we were seated around a table drinking tea with a couple of old friends.  
“That is none of your business, woman. What do you want?”  
“Hey! I know you! You’re that bitch who killed a bunch of us some time ago!” exclaims the one with the sideburns pointing his finger at Sadie’s face.  
I just have the time to look at her again that she takes out her gun and shoots the man.   
“Come on now, buddy. Tell me more about the hanging” she says pointing it at the boy.  
“It’ll be in Saint Denis, but we still don’t know when” he stammers raising his hands in the air.  
“How did they catch him?”  
A bullet passes right next to my head and turning around I see two more O’Driscolls riding towards us.  
“Okay, time to go!” yells Sadie.  
She fires her gun again, killing the boy and then she hits the spurs.   
“WHAT THE HELL, SADIE! You’ve been killing O’Driscolls?” I shout as the sons of bitches start shooting at us.  
I receive no answer to my question. Instead, she turns on her horse and starts firing back. Of course she’s been killing O’Driscolls, without telling me anything, without telling anyone, with the risk to be captured or worse, killed. No, captured. Captured is worse than killed.   
As we get to Bluewater Marsh, with the shape of Sisika Island visible in the distance, I look up at the sky, but I don’t see any trace of the air balloon.   
“They’re not here yet, or maybe they’re already gone!” I yell.  
“We better split up!” replies Sadie.  
“What?”  
“Kill those who follow you, I’ll try to find Arthur!”   
“I won’t leave you alone with them!”   
“I can handle them. See you back at camp, go!”  
At the fork, I take the left and ride inside a wood, while she takes the right and keeps going north. Two men follow me while the others keep chasing Sadie. Why do the O’Driscolls always travel in packs? That’s a good question. I should ask Arthur.  
Jumping up and down on the saddle, it takes me a while to reload my revolver, and when I’m finally done, I turn around and shoot. I hit one on the shoulder and he bends on his side, screaming in pain. Unfortunately for him the path among the trees is tricky and he doesn’t see a branch, hitting his head and falling down.The other one yells something that I can’t understand and then he fires.   
I feel Isabella jerking under me and before I know I’m already loosing my balance.   
While I fall, my grip on the gun loosens as I try to cushion the fall landing on my elbows. The result are bruises and scratches on both my arms as I hit hard on the ground. I roll a couple of times on the wet dirt that gets stuck in my hair and clothes and let out a moan of pain when I feel the scratches on my arms burning.  
I turn on my back and look at the man dismounting his horse. He lets out a throaty laugh and walks closer, standing straddle above me and pointing his gun to my face.  
“Well, well. You ain’t much tough after all” he grins.  
I raise a foot and kick him where it hurts the most, so that when he ducks for the pain, I can block the arm with the gun and take my knife from my belt, sticking it in his chest.   
He falls down and spits some blood, making me understand I hit his lung. I manage to take the gun away from his grip as I push the blade even deeper. Then, I take it out, stand up and walk away.  
“You should kill me” he says chocking in his own blood.   
“You’ll die soon anyway” I reply walking back to my Isabella.  
I quickly check her and I notice the bastard shoot her on her shoulder.   
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay. I’ll bring you home. I’m so, so sorry” I murmur.  
I pick my gun from the ground, mount up, and make her slowly walk back to camp, while my mind goes to Sadie and Arthur, hoping they are having a better time than me.

“Charles!” I call out as soon as I arrive.  
He comes out from where he is hidden, behind a tree, with a rifle in hands, guarding the camp, and gives me one of those look between the worry and the disappointment.   
“What happened?” he asks as I dismount Isabella.  
“O’Driscoll” I murmur.  
“Are you okay?” he asks lifting my arms to check where all the blood comes from.   
“Yes, but please… she’s hurt. What should I do?” I reply turning around and showing him Isabella’s wound.  
“Uhmm… We need to take the bullet out of her, and you won’t be able to ride her for a couple of days. Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of you first?”  
“No, no. She’s first.”“Okay, come. You have to keep her calm. This won’t please her.”As I keep petting her dark mantle, Charles makes the bullet come out of her flesh using something sharp. The process takes us more time that I expected and it is also painful for the horse. With every jerk and every whine, my stomach twists with regret, and I feel more and more proud of the way I killed that bastard.  
“She’ll be fine, don’t worry” says Charles in the end, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.   
I hiss in pain at his touch, realizing that the fall hurt me more than I thought. He leads me to the campfire and helps me cleaning my cuts and scratches, and put something that should stop the pain of the bruises.   
I don’t know how much time passes. I get lost under his attentive cures, looking at him as he carefully washes and bandages me. I don’t know how to explain it, but I like seeing him so focused into something: his eyes change and he looks sweeter somehow.   
Anyway, we spend a lot of time seated here, because at a certain point, Arthur shows up with his clothes dirty and ripped. No, it doesn’t look like they had a better time than me.  
“What happened? Where’s Sadie?” I ask.  
“I could ask you the same question” he replies pointing at Charles mending me.   
“What happened with them O’Driscolls?” he adds.  
I tell him about Sadie’s crazy reaction and about Colm’s execution, and in exchange he tells me about what happened on the air balloon.  
“I’m sorry for Mr. Bullard” I say when he tells me the man is dead.  
“He was a little bit of a fool, but seemed a good man” Arthur adds.  
“What about John?”  
“He’s still there. Mrs. Adler is providing us a boat so we can rescue him. Again.”


	33. Beaver Hollow

This morning the camp is covered by a light, yellow mist that makes the place even more creepy and hateful than usual. And I’m not the only one who suffers the effect of the weather: everybody seems to be more nervous.  
I notice that as I pour myself some coffee and Mr. Pearson walks past me carrying supply boxes and talking anxiously with Arthur about what happened recently. And then when I walk past Abigail and Sadie, who are arguing about something relating John - which is strange because they never argue.   
As I take short sips from my cup, I look around and spot Charles in the distance, among the fog, seated on a box and shaping an axe. Next to him there are more weapons waiting for being cleaned and shaped. A usual practice. I’ve seen him doing it often.  
“Good morning” I say drawing closer and sitting next to him.  
“Morning” he replies. He doesn’t turn his head to look at me and his voice is nothing more than a murmur. I’m starting to know him, day by day a little more, and I know that this behavior means today he’s not in the mood for talking. So I stay quiet, sip my coffee and just look at him working.   
After some minutes, Arthur approaches, stopping right in front of us. I look up at him and we exchange a quick look.  
“Charles… would you ride with me?” he asks.  
“Always” replies Charles standing up.  
“Where are you going?” I inquire doing the same.  
“Up past Butcher Creek” says Arthur.  
Charles freezes and they look right in the eye in a way that I really don’t like.  
“That’s Murfree Brood country” states Charles.   
“That’s why I’m asking you to ride with me” Arthur replies.  
“What? What does it mean? Is it a dangerous place?” I ask.  
Charles turns around to take some of the weapons beside him and Arthur glances at me before staring at the ground and sighing. There’s no need for them to answer, their silence is already telling me anything I need to know.  
“I’m coming” I say.  
“NO.”The word, pronounced in a dry and direct way, doesn’t come from Arthur, but from Charles. Strange, he never denied me to go anywhere. Why now?  
“We’ve done a lot of dangerous things together, why not this?” I ask.  
“Because you don’t know the people who live in that place. What are we doing there?” he adds addressing Arthur and walking past me, ignoring my complaining expression.  
“We’re looking for a place to hole up” replies Arthur following him.  
“If it’s really that dangerous, why are we moving there?” I ask chasing them.

“Cause there even the law won’t follow us too willingly. It’s a good place to hide” answers Arthur.  
“I did some scouting up there while you boys were away…” starts Charles.  
“Oh, so that’s how it works? You don’t want me to come because it’s dangerous, but you went up there all alone?”I grab his arm making him stop and look at my annoyed face.  
“Don’t insist. You’re not coming” he says firmly.  
“I am. You should have told me when you went to that place.”  
“No, you’re not. I didn’t know it was this dangerous till I saw it.”  
“Yes, I am. You can’t stop me.”  
I cross my arms on my chest, smiling when he rolls his eyes.   
“What do you think?” I ask to Arthur.  
“Well…”  
“You. Are. Not. Coming.”   
Oh God. I really like this impetuousness on him. It makes him look… I want to kiss him so badly.  
I take a step in his direction, getting dangerously closer and putting my hands around his waist.  
“Come on… you know I can take care of myself. And then, you and Arthur will be with me. What do you think can happen with you two by my side?”  
He sighs again and looks away, maybe knowing he has no power to stop me when I take my decision.   
“Let’s go. We don’t have all day” I add taking his hand and leading him to the horses.  
We agree on riding together: Isabella isn’t able to do it after yesterday and we have no time to ask someone to lend me his or her horse. He mounts up and then helps me doing the same. I tighten my arms around his waist and smell his scent. He is wearing the blue shirt. My favorite.  
“Okay, I know the way. Follow me” he says to Arthur and spurs Taima.   
“It’s quite a ride up there. I saw some canoes near the bridge up river which could take us right up to Butcher Creek. Might be quicker” he adds.  
“Yeah, boat’s probably a good idea” says Arthur.  
“Good for you?” asks Charles turning slightly his head to address me.  
“Whatever you say” I reply kissing his shoulder.  
Arthur is trotting by our side and he gives us a quick look and lets out a sweet chuckling.   
“Well, at least things turned out good between you two” he says.  
“When I returned to Shady Belle, everyone was pretty shaken up and… we all had a tough few days. I couldn’t have done it without… Fred. And Sadie.”  
I close my arms even tighter and laugh.  
“Yeah, especially Sadie. I have no idea where she takes all that fierceness” I say.  
“Mrs. Adler is a force of nature” laughs Arthur.  
I really don’t pay attention to the road we follow: soon lost in my thoughts, I loose the sense of space and time, so that I am a little disoriented when Charles suddenly stops Taima.  
“There should be some canoes” he says approaching the river, but at the sight of only one boat I feel his disappointment.  
“Well, that should do. Go hide the horses among the trees” he adds dismounting and giving me Taima’s reins.  
I go take Arthur’s horse as well and lead them both inside the wood on the other side of the road before walking back to the river.  
They decide I’ll sit in the middle, Charles in the front, Arthur in the back, and they will row while I… well, I’ll enjoy the landscape.  
As we slowly sail North, Charles tells Arthur what he already told me: that he met Eagle Flies and Rain Falls and helped them a little at their reservation, that they have a lot of troubles up there and probably need even more help.  
“Some man of them spoke a lot about the Murfree gang that hides in these caves. We’re going to need to be careful. They’re animals. Everyone here is terrified of them” he adds.  
“Well, it’s not the first time we deal with animals, so I guess we can perfectly handle this” I say, but their silence makes me understand these animals might be different than those we met until now.   
The rowing takes us more than I expected. The sun slowly comes down and leaves space to the pearly moon. When we’re hungry, we stop to eat some chipped beef by the river. No camp, they said, we need to reach that place fast. We arrive at our destination when everything is pitch dark, but for the light of the moon that draws the outline of the landscape around us.  
“That’s Butcher Creek up ahead” remarks Charles.  
I narrow my eyes towards the shore: there are some fires lighted on the land and some dark shapes moving among them.   
“Who’s these people?” asks Arthur.  
“The locals.”“They don’t look too friendly.”  
We leave the canoe and walk across the little village. The inhabitants don’t even look at us and those who do… I wish they didn’t. Arthur is right: they don’t seem friendly. Quite the contrary, they are creepy: scrawny, dirty, hunchbacked. I start to get a little bit nervous thinking of the kind of life they live up here and the things they’re probably forced to do to survive.  
We walk past several houses - if they can be called like that - when Charles suggests that it could be better if we borrowed some of their horses to reach the caves because it is a long and dangerous walk from here. I immediately agree, shivering at the idea to walk into the woods in this darkness. Do I regret to have come? No. I prefer to be here and see with my own eyes what they are dealing with, instead of being home with the hunting thoughts of what dangers they are going through.   
There are just two horses, so, just like before, Arthur takes one and I share the other with Charles. As we ride, climbing up hills and mountain sides, I can’t help looking around. This place just doesn’t feel right: it’s like hundred of eyes are looking at us from among the trees, following us and studying our every movement.  
From what Charles says, this Murfree gang makes a lot people disappear, and that is the reason why this place is almost deserted. Since they’re here, no-one’s safe, and no-one wants to live in their territory, not even cross it by chance.  
“Slow down, keep it quiet. It could be some of them” he says, suddenly slowing down and pointing to a lantern in the distance.  
Every muscle in my body immediately tenses up. Two Murfrees. There they are. Now we’ll see what they are like.  
We dismount and follow them on foot, see if they lead us to their hideout. When they stop, we stop too, and when we realize the famous cave isn’t much distant from where we are, Charles murmurs to Arthur to take them out before they alarm the others.  
As they fall on the ground, hit by two very precise throwing knives, I cautiously walk closer and study their appearance. Fangs, claws, bloody eyes. No, there is nothing like that on them. They are just men, as skinny and dirty as those we have seen in Butchers Creek.   
The weight on my chest lightens a little and with more security, I follow Charles and Arthur towards the entrance of the cave.  
“Okay, let’s see what’s going on” says Arthur kneeling down among the trees while Charles takes out his binoculars. A wise choice because the only thing I can see from here is the two torches that lighten the big hole in the rock, and then darkness. Darkness inside, darkness all around, all is pitch black and quiet.  
“That’s the stagecoach went missing” remarks Charles passing his binoculars to Arthur.   
“They must be in the cave” he says.  
“So, what do we do?” I ask.  
“We head into the cave or flush them out with dynamite” suggests Charles.  
“Let’s surprise them in there” says Arthur.  
“Okay, you better stay here and keep watch. We’ll get a little closer” Charles says to me, but I shake my head making him understand he isn’t going anywhere without me.  
He sighs and takes my hand.  
“Okay, but stay close” he adds.  
Crouched and shrunken on ourselves, we approach the cave, suspiciously looking around us, until I feel Charles leaving my hand and taking me from my shoulders to push me behind some boxes.  
Bringing a finger to his mouth, he makes me sign to be quiet and then points to the figure coming out from the cave. I stick out just that little I need to see a man dragging a corpse by its feet. The sight makes my stomach turn upside down.  
It is Arthur who takes care of the Murfree, sneaking behind him and stabbing him with his knife. Then, he checks inside and makes us sign to follow him. By the entrance we find another Murfree, busy looting some corpses. This time, Charles takes his bow and shows me how it should be used properly. I smile when the arrow hits the head of the man. I will never learn to do that on my own.  
We manage to kill some other Murfree quietly, but in the end one of them sees us and shouts for help to his friends. Well, at least I think that inhumane sound that came from him, echoing in the jagged stone walls, was a request for help, because immediately after more men come out.   
They don’t have any guns, they fight just with knifes and machetes and charge exactly like if they were animals: yelling and moving almost beastly. I try to be very careful not to let them close to me, because if they do, I’m pretty sure I’m dead. So I keep them away shooting them as I see them getting too close.  
We go down and down killing a man after the other. As I thought, they can be dangerous, but, after all, they’re just men. We’ve almost reached the end of the cave when we hear the scream of a woman coming from even deeper. I turn to look at Charles and Arthur who like me stopped when they heard her.  
“They might have a prisoner” I say and that’s exactly what that woman is, a prisoner, kept in a cage at the bottom of the cave, in worse conditions than every caged animal I’ve ever seen.   
I run towards her with the intention to set her free, but three more men appear from behind a big rock. Without thinking we lift our guns and shoot. The one charging me dies instantly with a bullet in his head, while the one next to him runs furiously against Charles, apparently not minding Charles’s double barrel pointed to his face.   
He shoots, but I don’t know how he manages to miss him and now the Murfree is on him. He swings his machete left and right with a movement of his arm so fast that I’m not surprised when Charles brings his hand to his side and screams in pain.  
As I lay my eyes on the blade of the machete, tainted of red, my mind completely free of every kind of thought, I run to the Murfree’s back and jump on him. My weight is too much for his weak knees, and so he falls down under me. Blocking his chest against the ground, I take out my knife, lift his head and cut his throat.   
“Next time, you think twice before you hurt him” I whisper to myself.  
“Hey, come here, let me give a look” I says standing up and walking to Charles.  
“Don’t worry, it’s just a scratch. Let’s get that poor girl out of that cage first.”  
I frown and sigh, but then I do as he says.   
“Stay away from me. No, stay away” the woman keeps saying as Arthur approaches the cage and only when she finally sees me, she calms herself a little.  
“Please… please.”  
“It’s okay, don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here” I reassure her.  
But then, Arthur takes out the knife to cut the ropes that close the cage, and the woman goes completely crazy. She starts screaming and shrinks herself in the remotest corner of her prison.  
“Don’t worry! We won’t hurt you!” shouts Arthur above her screeching.  
When he finally opens the door, I step inside, and with the sweetest of the voices and the most careful movements I make her come out.  
“Where are you from?” asks Arthur as we walk again to the entrance of the cave.  
“Annesburg” she replies.  
“What do we do with her?” asks Arthur to Charles.  
“You’ll get her back. I’ll go get the others” he replies.  
When we breathe again the clean air of the forest, I also notice the darkness isn’t so dark anymore. The sun is about to rise.   
I leave the woman to Arthur’s care and then reach Charles who’s already trying to mount on the other horse.  
“Where do you think you’re going? I need to check that cut first” I say.  
With a sigh, he takes his foot out of the stirrup and lets me take his hand and make him sit on a fallen tree nearby.   
“That poor woman. They are real animals” I murmur kneeling down and slowly opening the buttons of his shirt.  
“I told you. That’s why I didn’t want you to come. If something like that should…”  
I look up at him as his voice fades away, his deep eyes fixed on the ground, his head shaking slightly. I let go of his shirt and take his face between my hands.   
“It won’t. Never. Because you are with me. Okay?”  
We stare at each other and I allow myself to smile.  
“And then, it seems it must be me who protects you from the Murfrees” I add now checking the wound on his side.  
“I told you, it’s just a scratch…”  
“It doesn’t matter. Let me clean it.”As I rub a wet piece of cloth on the cut, which is not too deep fortunately, I sense Charles’s eyes on me. Who knows if he is thinking what I think every time I see him concentrated on some kind of work, if he is studying the way my eyes squint, the way my forehead cripples, the way my mouth bends, exactly how I do with him.   
I look up, meeting his stare, and smile again.  
“What?”  
“There was no need.”“I like to take care of you. And then, you always mend me, every time I get injured. For once, let me return the favor.”  
“If this means you get to touch me like this, I’ll get injured more often.”  
I laugh at his words, but I can’t deny they make something inside me change. I stop what I’m doing to caress his cheek and give him a kiss.  
“I was thinking…” he starts.  
“When we’ll bring the others here and settle the camp…I mean…you… do you mind sharing your space with someone else?” he asks now with some kind of embarrassment.  
“Share my space?”  
“You know… your tent… if you have some room for…” “You want to sleep in my tent with me?” I say as a smile broadens on my lips.  
“Only if you want it too” he says in a hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> This is again one of my favorite missions in the game and one of my favorite chapters to write.  
> "Charles, will you ride with me?"  
> "Always."  
> I think there's nothing more to add :')  
> I hope you liked it!  
> See you soon!
> 
> PS: I'm playing The last of us 2 and... my Lord this game is AWSOME. It's giving me all the feelings Rdr2 has given me. I know there are a lot of rumors and complaining about it, but personally I think most of the people talk too much without proving things first. No polemic intended.


	34. The Meaning of Treason

There is something different. As I open my eyes, I feel something different. The white cloth of my tent is the same, the blanket under my head is the same, the smell of the earth is the same, but now around my waist there is a weight.   
As I brush Charles’s hand with my fingers I smile to myself and turn around to look at him, being careful not to wake him. While he sleeps his face is very similar to the one he has when he’s awake: his brow a little furrowed, in an expression more of pain rather than anger, his jaw closed, his teeth grinding. Whatever hunts his thoughts and dreams, doesn’t let him sleep peacefully.   
I bring a hand to his cheek and touch his lightly grown beard, tracing the scar that looks like a lighting striking the earth. Now that I think about it, I’ve always wondered how he got it, but I never asked. Some things seem too personal for me to ask. Maybe one day, when we’ll know each other enough to tell our deepest secrets.  
My touch now wakes him, and he removes the arm from around me to take my hand and kiss it softly.  
“Morning” I chuckle.  
“You slept well?” he asks opening his eyes.  
“Better than ever.”  
We get out and give a look around and I notice there is something else that feels different this morning: the camp, the atmosphere between us. I thought that, once the others had come back, things would have gone back to normal, but it doesn’t feel normal, it feels cold, distant, like a lover who lost interest in his significant other.   
I’m about to ask Charles if he feels that too, but I have no chance, because in the distance I spot Arthur on his horse, surely coming back from Annesburg. Yesterday, it took us the entire day to go back to Lakay, gather the others and lead them to Beaver Hollow. We settled the camp in the night and then I literally passed out in my tent for the tiredness.  
“Hey, Arthur. How’s that poor woman?” I ask.  
“She’ll be fine. Took her home, to her mother. You had any troubles?”  
“No…”“Hey, Arthur!” calls Dutch from the distance.  
Arthur leaves us to go speak with the boss. I sigh looking at him going away.   
“They all seem so different since they’re back” I think out loud.  
“We don’t know what happened there, but it mustn’t have been nothing good from what Arthur says” replies Charles.  
I turn to look at him, but again, there is something that catches my attention. In the distance, walking… no, not walking, stumbling and staggering, clearly drunk, there is Miss O’Shea. She is followed by Uncle, who every now and then takes her arm to sustain her, but she pushes him away with decision.   
“So, Dutch! Did you miss me?” she yells making everybody look at her.  
“I found her, drunk in Saint Denis” explains Uncle.  
“You’re back. How jolly, Miss O’Shea” says Dutch with coldness.   
“It’s Molly, you sack of shit!”   
“Back and drunk.”  
Why has she come back? Why is she so decided to live with him? With a man that doesn’t respect her, that treats her bad, that says mean things to her? I don’t understand.  
Molly moves closer to him and we all do the same, attracted by the incoming drama like bears with honey.  
“Who made you the Lord God Almighty?”  
“Molly, calm down.”  
“I won’t be ignored, Dutch Van der Linde. I aren’t him…” she says pointing at Micah.  
“I aren’t her…” she moves her finger to Mary-Beth.  
“Or any of you stooges!”  
“Calm down, Miss.”  
Dutch is using with her the same cold voice he used with me many times before.  
“You don’t owe me nothing… I don’t owe you nothing. Nothing!” Molly bellows.  
“I’ll spit in your eye! I did… I told them!”  
“I’m sorry?” asks Dutch.  
“Yeah, I told them and I’d tell them again. Now I’ve got God’s ear?”  
Told them? What is she talking about?  
“You told who what?” asks Dutch.  
“Mr. Milton… Mr. Ross…about the bank robbery and I wanted them to kill you!”  
I freeze. My stomach twists on itself just like I had been kicked and I bend a little on myself, feeling suddenly sick. I can’t stand her voice anymore, I just want her to stop, turn around, go away. Why is she saying this? Why is she doing this?   
“You did what?” asks Dutch in disbelieve, taking his gun out.  
“I loved you, you goddamn bastard! Go on shoot me!” she yells.  
Shoot her? SHOOT HER? Right now I wish Dutch makes much more than just shoot her. I walk closer from behind her and take her wrist. Surprised by my contact, she turns around and looks at me.  
“What have you done?” I whisper.  
“Don’t you dare, you little whore…” she hisses taking her arm back with a tug.  
“You told on me? You betrayed me?” asks Dutch again.  
“Oh, you’re not so big now, are you?” she says with a smirk.  
“You don’t have any idea of what you’ve done!” I almost yell at her face. “Hosea died! Lenny died!”  
My eyes are burning, my knees are weak. Now I have someone to blame. It was her, she told them where to find us, it’s all her fault. That’s why she disappeared before the robbery.   
The bitch now starts laughing, a crazy laugh, just like the crazy woman she is. I raise a hand opening my fingers wide and ready to hit her with all the strength I have, but Charles comes from behind, he takes me from my waist and blocks my arm, dragging me back and whispering to my ear.  
“Hey, hey, let her go, let it go, come here, come here.”Even if at the beginning I try to fight him, I soon do as he asks. His touch calms me and I start crying silently as Miss O’Shea keeps laughing at Dutch’s face.  
“You’re not so big now…” she scorns.  
The boss has his gun in his hand, ready to raise it and shoot, and I stare at him, waiting for him to do it. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t because Arthur is keeping him telling him to let her go, that she is crazy, not worthy to bother about her.  
I would like to scream, tell Dutch to pull that goddamn trigger, she deserves that, she has to pay for Hosea and for Lenny, for John in that jail, for what him and Arthur and Javier and the others have suffered on that island.   
Suddenly, a shot echoes in the clearing and makes everybody shut up. Molly isn’t laughing anymore, Arthur isn’t talking, no-one is moving, we are all barely breathing.   
Miss O’Shea takes a step backwards bringing her hands to her belly before she falls on the ground, dead. I move my eyes on Miss Grimshaw, the shotgun still smoking in her hands.   
“She knew the rules, Arthur. What the hell is wrong with you? Mr. Pearson, Mr. Williamson, get this body out of here and get it burnt” she orders.   
Mary-Beth on my left started a soft sobbing. Stupid girl. What did she think? That after what she has done, we would let her go like nothing had happened?   
With my sight still blurred by the tears, I gently free myself from Charles and spit on the corpse at my feet before going away.

“So, it was her. Miss O’Shea told the Pinkertons about the bank robbery” says Sadie as we ride one next to the other.  
“Yes. That bitch. I still can’t believe it.”   
“Don’t judge her too quickly. People do crazy things sometimes.”   
I would never do that. I would never put in danger the lives of people I care about.  
We are heading to Sisika. Today, we’ll try to find a way to make John break out from there. It’ll be Sadie, Arthur and I: the three of us should be enough and we are the only ones who can be trusted in keeping this secret, because if Dutch knows, he would surely stop us.   
Well, I told Charles of course, because I know I can trust him and he promised to keep the secret. To tell the truth, first he opposed to my decision to get involved with this, then he said he wanted to come too, but in the end I asked for Sadie’s backup and she managed to convince him somehow and he let me go, telling me to be careful.   
I’ll be careful, but with Arthur and Sadie I’d feel safe even if I had to walk inside the mouth of an alligator, and even if an entire army should come out of that prison, I’m pretty sure we’ll get out of there all in one piece.   
Sadie also provided us a boat - I have no idea how - and this way we’ll reach the island without being seen. Once there, we’ll come up with something. I know it’s not a real plan, but it’s the best we can do for now. We don’t know where we’ll find John, how the guards will react to our presence, how many of them there will be… we know nothing about that place.  
We take the same path I made alone the other day, when the O’Driscolls chased us, and reach the shore with the little dock and the boat and… Abigail waiting for us.  
“What are you doing here?” exclaims Sadie as she dismounts her horse.   
“I’m coming. To rescue John. I don’t want you to do all the work alone and then…he’s my husband, so he’s my responsibility” she replies firmly.  
She sounds like she rehearsed the words, studying and finding the best ones to convince us, and the thing makes me smile. For a moment I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea, but then looking at her long gown and thinking about the fact that I’ve never seen her with a gun in hand, I change my mind. She isn’t ready for something like that, she would just put in danger us and herself, risking to make us all end up like John.   
As I study her clothes, something else comes to my mind, and I turn left and right looking for a carriage, a horse, maybe even a bicycle, but I can’t see anything but the three of us and our two horses.   
“How did you get here?” I ask in the end.  
“You’re not coming” replies Sadie as they both ignore my question.  
“But…”  
“No but. You’re staying here” she adds walking past Abibal to sit on the dock.  
“How did you…” I start.  
“The thing is, I…I have to come, he’s my husband” Abigail stops me going after Sadie.  
I sigh and dismount Isabella. It seems I’ll never know how she magically arrived here.   
“I know he’s your husband, but it’s gonna be…it’s gonna be violent” replies Sadie.  
“I can handle myself just fine.”  
“We know you can. But we don’t want you to risk your life. Think about Jack, he needs you” I say walking towards her.  
“Jack will be fine. The girls are taking care of him till we’ll get back.”  
“It ain’t happening” says Sadie.  
“Come on, Abigail. There’s no need for you to come. There’s already three of us” I add.  
“I insist.”  
“Insist all you like, ain’t happening” repeats Sadie.  
As we talk I hear a horse approaching and turning around Arthur’s pale and tired face appears. Making a mean joke, I could say Abigail seems more capable to fight than he is. But I better don’t say it, I would sound too much like fucking Micah.  
“Tell her Arthur” says Sadie.  
“Tell her what?” he asks.  
“She ain’t coming with us to collect her husband.”  
“Abigail, you ain’t coming. That’s the end of the matter. You two get inside. Let’s get done with it” he adds pointing at the little boat.  
I follow his orders and step in right after Sadie. Abigail keeps looking at us half annoyed half hoping.  
“But…”  
“Listen, the fewer we are, the better. Go back to camp, go to Jack. We’ll bring him back to you” I say looking at her as the boat starts to move.  
“Well… I ain’t the crying sort, but… I’m real grateful” she says with a sigh.  
“Everything we’ll be fine, don’t worry” I reply with a smile, taking my place next to Sadie while Arthur takes the oars.  
“How much it’s going to take us?” asks Sadie.  
“Well, I reckon… half an hour?” says Arthur turning around to look at the island in the distance before pulling again the oars.  
“So, what after we reach it?” I ask.  
“We climb on a high place, maybe one of those towers I’ve seen they use for the watch, and from there we look for him on the working fields” says Arthur.  
“And then we simply go and take him? What about the guards?” I add frowning  
“We’ll be faster than the guards and reach him before they reach us” replies Sadie.  
“Yeah, it makes perfect sense” I snort in a laugh.  
“If you have a better idea…” she starts.  
“No. No, no, good enough for me.”  
We point our eyes on the watchtower as we are close enough to see there is a guard on it, but he seems to be looking to the other side, towards the fields. Nonetheless, for the last stretch of our sailing, Sadie keeps her rifle pointed to his head.   
Lucky him, and lucky us too, he doesn’t turn around and we can land safely on the muddy shore. Low and quiet, we walk to said tower to take the guard off. Arthur climbs the iron ladder first, followed by Sadie and then me. By the time I reach the top, they already got rid of the man with the uniform and Arthur is watching at the working fields through a sniper rifle.   
“Okay, take the guards out and let’s go get our boy” says Sadie.  
Arthur’s first shot echoes on the plain and takes me a little by surprise. The second shot must alert everybody on the island and I look at the big dark building in the distance.   
“You think they heard us? From the prison?” I ask  
“We’ll be far away before they reach us” replies Sadie.  
“We have a problem. I don’t think that was John” says Arthur putting down the rifle.  
“One of the guards is still alive. Come on, let’s see if he knows where Marston is” replies Sadie watching briefly through her binoculars.   
This time I’m the first to climb down and as soon as my feet touch the ground, there it is, the sound I’ve been dreading. A long, sharp sound coming from the prison and extending to the entire island.  
“Uh-oh… they’ll be here any moment” I say.  
“Okay, time to get going” replies Sadie jumping the last step and running towards the fields.   
I follow her but my eyes are fixed on the building in the distance waiting for the gate to open and a ridiculous number of people coming out. When we reach the guard still alive Sadie kicks his rifle away and points her gun to his face.  
“You, Mister, you know John Marston?”  
“He… he ain’t… he ain’t working today” he stammers in pain.  
“Put the gun down, lady.”We both turn around to look at the man who has given the order and I instinctively raise my revolver in his direction as I see he has a rifle in his hands. But also, I lower it when I notice Arthur coming from behind him. “No… you put the gun down. Now!” he threats the guard taking him from behind and putting an arm around his neck and the pistol on his temple.  
“Where’s John Marston?” he asks.  
“He ain’t in the work detail today.”   
“Okay, well I guess we’ll go and get him together” replies Arthur pushing him towards the prison.  
“What?”  
I run to reach Arthur’s side and follow the slow pace he is keeping.  
“We’ll get inside the prison? We’ll never get out of there alive, Arthur” I whisper.  
“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way. Who’s in charge of the establishment?”   
“Jameson, sir” answers the guard.  
“Jameson who?”  
“No, Mr. Jameson, Heston Jameson.”  
Again, I look at the prison gate and wonder why they haven’t send reinforcements yet. But it doesn’t matter, as soon as they see us, keeping one of them as hostage, they’ll kill us.   
We get at the bottom of the tall, thick wall with the big double gate that looks like not even a set of cannons could be able to pull down. On the top of it, pointing their shiny long rifles at us, are at least twenty guards.   
“Jameson! Is Jameson here?” yells Arthur.  
“He’s in Saint Denis!” answers one.  
“They got Milliken” states another.  
“Got him and going to kill him unless you bring me John Marston” says Arthur.  
No, this isn’t going to work. They’ll kill us. We should already be dead, but apparently there is something still holding them back. I give a look around, thinking that maybe they are waiting for other people, other guards, but I cannot see a single soul in the fields.  
“You got one minute! I’m counting… One. Two. Three…”  
At Arthur’s threat, no-one moves. It can’t work. It absolutely can’t. Unless they are complete idiots.  
“Uh, Milliken is it?” asks Arthur in a murmur to the man he is holding.  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Will you count for me? I got talking to do.”  
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. From…one, sir, or…”  
“Oh very funny, we must be eleven by now.”  
If it wasn’t for the situation we’re in, I would have laughed.  
“Eleven… twelve… thirteen…” counts Milliken, but he soon stops and starts whimpering. He looks like a child when he does so.  
“Now, hurry up, or this poor fool’s gonna get his brain shot out and over what? For nothing!” Arthur addresses the guards on top of the wall.  
“Hurry up and bring that asshole out here you bastards! Come on!” yells poor Milliken in desperation.  
From the wall they look at us without blinking an eye and I take a step towards Arthur, ready to tell him this truly isn’t going to work, when…  
I widen my eyes in disbelieve and blink a couple of times, just to be sure I’m awake and what I’m seeing isn’t a trick or a dream. A guard is opening the gate and leading John Marston to us.   
“Mary Mother of God! I can’t believe they fell for it!” I whisper to myself.  
Sadie shots the chain at John’s feet and then they both start running away.  
“Okay, buddy. This was your lucky day!” says Arthur pushing Milliken onto the ground and turning around to follow them.   
I realize I’m the only one still standing here and looking at those pale faces on the wall when they start shooting at us. Still profoundly incredulous, I dart to take cover with my friends as bullets fill the air.  
“Nice to see you again, John” I yell above the firing noise.  
“You took your time to come!”  
“Well, at least we’re here. So be grateful, you asshole!” I say handing him my rifle, which truly is his rifle, the one he gave me months ago.   
Shooting to keep the guards at bay, we slowly retreat and only dare to give our backs to them and run when we reach again the open fields.  
“Come on! We need to get back to that boat” yells Sadie to my left.  
Yes, we can’t kill everybody, we don’t have time for that. Just get rid of those chasing us and get the hell out of here.  
Behind me, I keep hearing scrams and bullets hitting the ground, and I don’t stop running, even when my legs burn and my heart feels like it is about to break my ribs to come out.  
“It’s not done yet!” says Sadie when we finally reach the boat.  
“I’ll row, Arthur, Fred, you two deal with the men who’re coming.”   
“Right, fine. You just relax and enjoy yourself, John. Leave the real work for them as can still handle it” says Arthur with sarcasm.  
“Oh shut up, Arthur! Leave him be. Can’t you see in what conditions he is?” I reproach him pointing at John’s trembling figure on the floor of the boat. They surely didn’t treat him well inside that prison, he is skinny, obviously underfed, weak and tired.   
As Sadie starts making us move away from the island, Arthur and I hold off the last men who have been following us until we are far enough not see them anymore. I sit down, breathing deeply, while Arthur takes an oar to help Sadie. As we slowly go back, we tell John everything that happened after Saint Denis: Hosea and Lenny, Guarma, the Pinkertons, Beaver Hollow, Molly, and Dutch, who didn’t want us to rescue him.  
“Jesus, maybe you should have just left me to hang” he murmurs in the end.

When we reach camp, Abigail’s thirty-four teeth give us a warm welcome.   
“You brought him back to me!” she exclaims holding John tight.  
“We told we would” replies Sadie.  
I smile at the scene. Sometimes they argue, sometimes they treat each other with coldness, sometime they seem they can’t stand each other anymore, but I know their love is real, and Abigail was so worried for him, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.   
“John!”  
Dutch’s thundering voice breaks the happiness of the moment. We all turn to look at him.  
“What are you doing here?” asks the boss coming towards us followed by Micah.  
“Is good to see you too, partner” answers John with coldness.  
“I meant I didn’t sent for you yet.”  
“I went” Arthur steps in to face him.  
“But I said…”  
“Yeah, I know what you said. I felt different.”  
I suddenly feel the tension rising among the group. The tone Arthur is using with Dutch… I’ve never heard him talking to him like that, and Dutch doesn’t seem too happy about it. I move my wide open eyes from one to the other, wondering what’s about to happen now.   
“Is that so?” asks Dutch between his teeth.  
“Yes” answers Arthur.  
They are definitely different since they came back from Guarma. They don’t work together anymore. On the contrary, they seem almost enemies right now. I don’t like it. I don’t want it. I want things to go back as they were.  
“And when springing John brings the law down on all of us, what then, Arthur?” asks Dutch.  
Is this the real reason why he didn’t want to rescue him? Even if that could put John’s life in danger? Or is this the umpteenth lie?   
“Well I guess we’ll have another fight on our hands” replies Arthur.  
Yes, he is right. We already fought and won all the fights we’ve been through. One more won’t change anything and saving John was definitely more important.  
“Loyalty, Arthur, it ain’t… I had a GODDAMN PLAN! John… John… you are my brother, you are my son. I was coming for you…”“They… they was talking of hanging me, Dutch” says John.  
Just now I realize that there is someone who hasn’t said a word yet and I find it really really strange: Micah. Now, that I think about it, he hans’t said a word since they came back from Guarma. He just follows Dutch everywhere he goes like his little faithful lapdog.   
“They was talking. They. Was. Talking. And now they may come and hang us all!”


	35. People Don't Change

I keep thinking about that. What Dutch said, the way Arthur spoke to him. They are not wrong, both of them: setting John free might have been a mistake, but who says we wouldn’t have paid the consequences for letting him rot in jail? Who between them is most right? If it was Charles, wouldn’t I have saved him? Even if it was against Dutch’s will? Easy answer.  
For what Charles says, we did the right thing. Apparently, he has changed his mind too. Now he doesn’t think Dutch is right on everything anymore, he too has noticed he is different since he came back, everybody has.   
“People don’t change. They just become more what they really are” said Arthur one evening as the three of us were seated around the campfire. He couldn’t be more right, and now, I think that maybe I’ve never been mistaken about Dutch and that I’ve seen him for what he really is since the beginning. I should have never started to trust him after Bronte, shouldn’t I? Ohh, I don’t know anything anymore.   
I lower my eyes and scratch my head taking a little sigh.  
“How are you, my dear?” asks Uncle coming to sit by my side around the campfire.  
“Alright, I think.”  
Silence falls and I move my eyes in the distance looking at Arthur walking towards Reverend Swanson and the two of them start talking.  
“You have some recent adventure you want to talk me about?” asks Uncle again.  
“Uhm… no, I don’t think so.”  
Now, Dutch is approaching them taking Arthur away from the reverend to speak with him in private. Arthur’s face shows all his perplexity.  
“Well, Charles’ influence on you isn’t good. You sound just like him” Uncle says catching my attention and making me smile.  
“You could use with some silence too some times, you know?” I joke.  
“And be as boring as he is? Ain’t happening.”  
I laugh at his words, but my smile soon fades away as I see someone I didn’t expect to see walk inside camp: Eagle Flies. What is the chef’s son doing here? Why is Charles with him? And why are they stopping to talk with Arthur and Dutch. I stand up to find it all out.   
“Dutch, this is Eagle Flies. His father is a great chief. Charles and I we…erm…” begins Arthur.  
“Pretended to be mercenaries, did me a great favor” completes Eagle Flies.  
Then, he turns his head to look at me as I reach them.  
“Hi, nice to see you again” I say.  
“And you too.”  
I exchange a quick look with Charles asking him with the eyes what is going on.  
“How are you?” I ask then to the chief’s son.  
“Not well. Not well at all.”   
“How’s your father?” asks Arthur.  
“Father has confused wisdom with weakness. His people, my people, we’ve suffered too much, being lied too much, now… they’ve taken our horses.”  
Again, I look at Charles who this time stares at me and slightly shakes his head. I think I know what he’s telling me: this boy is a hothead and he won’t listen to his father, who’s far more experienced and wiser than he can ever be.  
“Who took them?” asks Dutch.  
“The infantry division posted at Fort Wallace” answers Charles.  
“Why?”   
“Colonel Favours is a liar and a murderer, his people won’t stop until we’re all dead. Without horses, we cannot hunt. Without hunting, we will starve. This is another act of war” replies Eagle Flies.  
Here we go again, the obsession of the war. We have been doing everything in our power to stop this stupid war to break out and still it seems he doesn’t want to give up.  
“Your men have helped me before and I have money” adds Eagle Flies.  
“Put your money away, son. What do you think, Charles?” says Dutch.  
“You know I told your father I will not fight over some horses” Charles says to Eagle Flies.  
That’s it. Finally someone tells him how stupid this will of war at all costs is.  
“But I made no such promise” says Dutch.  
We all stare at him.  
“Come along…” he adds ignoring our looks and walking away followed by Eagle Flies.  
Oh, no, no, no, this won’t bring anything good. Dutch wants to help him? Dutch? The way he thinks recently they will end up having more troubles than they already have.  
“Arthur, we must go with them to try to stop things from getting… out of hand” says Charles. He seems to be having my own thoughts.  
“Why you brought him to Dutch if you knew his intentions?” I ask.  
“Though maybe he could talk some sense into him. I was wrong.”  
“We can get him more horses. There’s no need to start a war” remarks Arthur.  
“I know. I understand Eagle Flies is angry, but I don’t see how this will help anything” replies Charles.  
“Neither do I. Come on, we need to do something” I add and do as to head to the horses, but this time Charles stops me.   
“No wait. You better stay here.”“Why?”  
“Trust me. We don’t know what we’ll go through. It’s the army we’re talking about now. We’ll be back soon” he says kissing my forehead and going away before I can reply anything.   
I open my mouth to yell something at his back, to complain, but all that comes out is a: “please, be careful.”  
He turns one last time to nod meaningfully and then they all mount on their horses and disappear.  
No, I’ve done the right thing. He seems pretty taken by all this and I better keep out this time. My presence won’t do nothing more than bother him even more. I know it will.   
As I wait for them to come back, I decide to help the girls with the chores. I go take some water and help Tilly washing some clothes. Mary-Beth comes to sit next to us and read her book, on her face the same expression she has been having recently: her lips pursed, her eyes watery, quieter than usual. I reckon she’s still a little shocked for what happened to Miss O’Shea.  
After some minutes of silence, some strange hysteric screams start on the other side of camp.  
“You’re a nasty woman, Miss Grimshaw, a nasty woman.”  
It’s Karen. The three of us first exchange a look and then we all stare at her.  
“You think I wanted to shoot her?” asks Miss Grimshaw.  
“You seemed to like it, I saw that… beady look in your eyes.”  
“You’re drunk again.”  
“And you’re a fucking murderer!”   
“Here we go. How many times must it happen?” sighs Tilly.  
She isn’t wrong. Lately, Karen has been drinking and provoking everybody in camp. The other day I saw her doing it with Abigail. Yesterday, it was my turn. I couldn’t even understand what she was accusing me of.  
“I can’t go over that, either. I still can’t believe she’s dead” whispers Mary Beth her stare now lost in the nothingness.  
“I’m glad Miss Grimshaw shot her. She deserved that” replies Tilly with coldness.   
“How can you say such a thing?” exclaims Mary-Beth disgusted by her words.  
“Well, if you think about it, Mary-Beth, she betrayed us and the rules say…” I start.  
“We don’t know if she actually did that. She was in love, she could have said anything.”  
“You all keep repeating that, but it ain’t an excuse! I would have never done such a thing for love. That’s bullshit” I say angrily.   
“I don’t know. Maybe… maybe I’m just scared. So many things have changed.”  
Her voice now little and trembling, like the one of a little girl telling her parents she is afraid of the dark, and I suddenly feel sorry for the way I spoke. It’s not her fault after all.  
“I know. I’m too. But if we stick together, we’ll have a chance” I say.  
“You sound just like Javier. He said that too” replies Tilly.  
And he is right.

When Arthur and Charles come back, their faces are disapproving and their clothes drenched. Apparently the boat they were in sinked. Again.  
“Where have I heard that before?” I joke as I bring them some dry clothes.   
They tell me Dutch has another great plan: he will help Eagle Flies, despite his father told him not to cause any more troubles, to scare a little bit the army and force them to leave the natives alone.   
“I know he wants to help them but… won’t this put both them and us in danger?” I ask as they start undressing.  
“If he’s doing it to help them” Arthur replies.   
I stare at him for a while, puzzled, before understanding what he means.  
“You think he’s using them?”  
He simply sighs, but this perfectly answers my question. How can he do such a thing? Why would he do such a thing?  
“In any case, I still can’t understand how this will help us. I don’t think the attention of the army would be useful.”  
But right after I say this a thought slithers inside my mind. Maybe he doesn’t have a plan, maybe he doesn’t know what to do anymore and this is just a way to make us believe he actually has a clue of what is going on. If what I think is true, then everyone here is in danger. When Dutch will fall, he’ll bring everyone with him. Abigail, Jack, John, the girls… we should help them run away. They can still make it, before it’s too late.  
I’m about to tell Arthur and Charles what I think, but I don’t get the chance because Arthur interrupts me.  
“Listen, Charles. I was talking with Rain Falls the other day. He… gave me some advise.”  
He stops for a second looking away in some kind of embarrassment before keeping on.  
“Anyway… I met a man at the reservation: Captain Monroe. He’s helping the Indians and asked for a hand. Would you come with me up there? Maybe we can do something.”  
“Can I come?” I ask before Charles can answer.  
When Arthur looks at me with severity, I turn to Charles begging him with the eyes.  
“You said you’d like to show me how’s up there” I complain.  
“You can go if you want, but I can’t. Got work to do.”  
I pout and he answers with a shrug.   
“Okay then… I guess it’s just you and me, Arthur” I say in the end. 

I feel my heart beating fast with impatience, but at the same time I can’t deny a little anxiety. I don’t know if it will be as I imagined, I don’t know how they’ll treat me, how I must treat them, how they will react to my presence…  
“And… how are they like? I mean, I know they are quiet people, that they like a quiet life so… do you think I’m allowed to speak with them? Do they speak English by the way?”  
“I don’t know! I didn’t get the chance to make a tee party last time!” answers Arthur annoyed.  
“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry, I’m just… nervous.”   
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. They’re people, just like you and me. So act normal and stop asking questions! Jesus…”  
I scoff. I know I’ve been more talkative than usual, but how could I not ask questions? It’s been a long way for the reservation, one day and a half of riding, and I had to keep busy somehow. I supposed Arthur could give me some advice since he’s already been there, how I should behave at least, if there is some tradition I should know about to avoid embarrass myself, but apparently my will of knowledge is annoying. If Charles was here, he would have answered, and he would have known what to say to pacify me. He always knows.   
We keep riding for a time that seems endless walking past forests, lakes, rivers, abandoned cabins, going towards the mountains, higher and higher. I tighten my jacket around my chest as the temperature keeps going down, wishing I had brought a heavier coat with me.  
“Okay, slow down, we’re almost there” says Arthur suddenly.  
I narrow my eyes peering in the distance and already spotting some of their typical tents. More restless than ever, I make Isabella slow down as we reach the entrance of the reservation.   
I lay my eyes on the colorful cloths of the tents and the numerous men, women and children with dark long hair who stop whatever they’re doing to curiously look up at us. We dismount our horses before reaching the village and lead them to the post to tide them next to the others.  
Their horses are different too: they have some kind of decorations on their mantle. Circles, triangles, hand prints, with red, white and blu painting. I wonder if they mean something or if they are just decorations.  
“Whoah” I whisper looking around me. I wish Charles was here.   
“Mr. Morgan!”  
Both Arthur and I turn around to look at the man walking towards us. He’s a little shorter than Arthur, definitely thinner, wearing a white hat and a blue uniform, and the deep lines he’s got on his face tell me he must have seen the worst parts of what the world can offer. He’s part of the army after all.  
“Hello… here I am, as promised” says Arthur.  
“Captain Monroe” the man introduces himself stretching out a hand.  
“Fred Faraday” I say taking it.  
“Come, this way. We moved all the diseased to this part of the camp” he says making sign with his hand to follow him.  
“The… diseased?” I ask.  
“Yes. The chief’s gone out trying to find medications. It’s quite a business”  
As I walk among the tents I realize that what I’ve been seeing from the distance isn’t the truth at all. The place might be beautiful, but the people…seated or lying on the ground, their faces are sorrowful, their eyes lost, their foreheads pearly with the sweat of fever, most of them are just elders or women with children. The smell of disease mixed with wild herbs fills my nostrils.   
“Colonel Favors seems to think the natives have broken some promise they never made, and apparently he’s punishing them by withholding vaccines sent down by the Federal Government” explains the Captain.  
“But… that’s terrible” I murmur.  
“Yes, I know and… now, this is the situation” he adds pointing around us.  
“I was supposed to oversee the administration of vaccines. Now I hear the wagon’s been diverted” says Monroe.  
“Why would he do such a thing?” asks Arthur with the same furrowed brow he has when he sees something he doesn’t like.  
“To be honest, I truly don’t know” sighs the Captain heading to a pot and taking something hot and liquid that he pours inside a bowl.  
“They say he didn’t have a very good war, so maybe he’s trying to start another one” he adds handing the strange soup to a child nearby.  
“What a bastard” I hiss between my teeth.  
“And what do you think?” asks Arthur.  
“I know he likes to provoke me, almost as much as he likes to provoke these poor bastards” replies Monroe giving another bowl to a woman.  
“Meaning?”  
“Meaning… he knows I think he’s a horse’s ass. So we’re stuck here trying to do the best of things.”  
“This is the best of things? Children dying of disease?”  
Arthur turns around to walk away, his voice full of something that sounds like… anger. I follow him with the eyes, incapable to believe what I’m hearing. He cares? He cares about these people? What happened to him? What happened to the man ready leave a German woman with her children alone instead of taking her husband back? What happened to the convicted murderer who didn’t want to help the chief and his son unless he was getting paid?   
“Where is this wagon? Where can we find it?” he suddenly asks to Monroe.  
“You… do you really want to help them?” I ask amazed.   
“You want to leave them like this? Come on, Captain Monroe” he says heading to the horses, but the Captain makes him stop.  
“Mr. Morgan, we must act with due caution.”  
“Oh we shall, we surely shall, now come.”  
“Arthur, what about me? You think I can stay here and help them while you take the vaccines?” I ask.  
This is my chance to take a look around and meet the local people, something I wanted to do from time immemorial.  
“Well, I don’t think what we’re about to do is appropriate for a lady” says Monroe.  
I exchange a look with Arthur and we smile to each other.  
“Yeah, I think you can stay. As the Captain says: it’s not appropriate” he adds.  
I chuckle to myself, but then I immediately go back to a straight face, watching them as they go away. What caused this change? Why he suddenly decided to play the good guy? Shaking my head, still not completely believing my eyes, I reach the boiling pot and fill some bowls with the hot reddish liquid that I hand to some other sick person.  
“What are you called?” asks a woman with a child asleep in her arms, I think she could be around two years old.  
“Fred… well, my real name is German, it’s Friedrich.”  
“What it means?”  
“Err… well, it doesn’t have a meaning. Literary translated could mean something like ‘peaceful ruler’. But it doesn’t make any sense in my case. I’m not a ruler and I wouldn’t describe myself as peaceful” I laugh.  
She stares at me, maybe not fully understanding what I’m saying.  
“What about you? And your child? What’s her name?” I ask nodding to the little girl.  
“Ametane’e it’s my name, means ‘Living Woman’. She is called Nahkoha’e, Bear Woman.”  
“They are beautiful names.”  
Then, out of nowhere, I feel something touching my right shoulder and when I turn my head I notice a group of children. They are all of different ages, I guess. Someone is taller, someone smaller. The youngest of them could be the same age as Jack is.   
“Hello” I say with a smile.   
One of the oldest kids, a girl with braided hair and a red and blu cape on her shoulders says something in a language I can’t understand. I just stare at her not knowing what to do or say.  
“She asked if they can put flowers in your hair” says the woman next to me.  
“You have an unusual color of hair, for them it is something new” she adds.  
“Oh! Well… I think… yes, sure.”  
Another girl takes my hand and pulls me to make me stand up. I follow them to another part of the camp where I sit down on a tree stump and they start playing with my hair. They keep laughing and saying things in their language, and I can’t help smiling with them as I feel their little hands all over my head.  
Taking a tour, I notice that they truly need a lot of help, not only with the sick people but also with the everyday chores. Lucky for me most of them are perfectly able to speak English, so I ask how I can help and they send me from one side of the camp to the other to deal with the most common camp chores, all with an incredible politeness.  
After a couple of hours, Captain Monroe comes back. He tells me Arthur had to do the job alone, because if the army knows Monroe has something to do with the stealing of the vaccines, all his career will be jeopardized, and he won’t have the chance to help the natives anymore.   
First he volunteers to help them, then he decides to do all alone so not to put in danger a complete stranger. I start to think Dutch isn’t the only one who changed on that island.  
“People don’t change. They just become more what they really are.”  
Yes, I knew it! I knew he was a good man. All he had to do was decide to prove it, to the others and especially to himself. It must have been difficult to realize he has lived his entire life pretending to be someone he truly wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I enjoyed writing this chapter, it was fun and still lighthearted, but I warn you, from next chapter, I cried for every word I wrote.  
> I don't know if that's a positive thing, but we're almost at the end, so hold on!  
> See you soon!


	36. Fix Things

“Wait a second, I have to stop here” says Arthur pulling the reins of his horse.  
“Would you mind telling me why we are here?” I ask doing the same.  
After he returned with the vaccines, Arthur and I left the reservation and decided to camp halfway between Ambarino and New Hannover. This morning we dismantled the camp in a hurry after he told me he had to stop in Annesburg before returning to Beaver Hollow. The problem is: he didn’t tell me why he needs to stop in Annesburg. It seems he’s playing at the mystery man now.  
“You just wait here” he snaps dismounting.   
I roll my eyes and then suspiciously follow him as he walks inside a little side alley. What is he hiding? Why can’t he just tell me? Is it something he is doing behind Dutch’s back?   
I lean forward on the saddle to watch him. He isn’t alone, next to him there is a boy I’ve never seen before. The young man speaks gesturing a lot, from his furrowed brow he seems to be angry, and at a certain point he even points his index to Arthur’s chest in an accusatory way.   
Curious as a monkey to know what’s going on, I get down Isabella and reach them. The strange thing is that Arthur isn’t reacting at the boy’s behavior. I have seen him being accused or threatened a lot of times, and all those times, or most of them at least, he always answered with violence and aggressiveness. This time he is particularly meek.  
“I told you to wait by the horses” he says as I reach them.  
“What’s going on?” I ask ignoring him.  
“My mother, she… she keeps working. She ain’t be back for a few hours. She left with some feller down the railway tracks. I did not like the look of him” answers the boy.  
His mother? Who are these people?  
“Which way you say?” inquires Arthur.  
“That way, around the woods, towards Willard’s rest.” “I’ll see what I can do. You, stay here” Arthur adds to me.  
I scoff and look at him go away. I don’t have the strength to argue. Looking at the boy, studying his face and his appearance, I keep trying to understand if I’ve seen him somewhere.  
“Who are you? What happened with your mother?”  
“Archibald Downes” he quickly says. “My mother…”  
“What did you say?”  
I open my eyes wide and I feel my guts twist so suddenly that the little coffee I took this morning threats to come up again.  
“My name is Archibald Downes. My mother is working as… she…”   
“You’re Mr. Downes’ son. Thomas Downes?”  
There is no need to ask the question, but I need to say it out loud to process the information. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe Arthur is helping Downes’s son and widow. “You knew my father?”  
“We better sit down” I say putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him to a staircase.  
Sitting one next to the other on the steps, I tell him how I met his father in Valentine some months ago, how I knew about his debts and how I tried to help them paying the debt he had with Strauss in their place. In turn he tells me what happened to them in these weeks, how his mother has to ‘work’ to gain some money and how Arthur has been helping them, or at least how he’s been trying, because they promised not to accept anything from him.   
Of course, he is part responsible for what happened to them. If the killers of my family came to me with some money to repay the wrong they have done, I probably would kill them without thinking twice.   
“I’m sorry, I wish I could have done more for you” I say in the end.   
“Why? You don’t know us and we don’t know you. You must do nothing for us. We don’t need a stranger’s charity” he replies harshly. His eyes are full of disdain, in his voice a young pride.   
“You’re right. I don’t owe you nothing. I guess I just… see a little of myself in you.”  
He looks at me with an inquisitive gaze and I know for sure he’s about to ask me why, but fortunately he has no possibility. Coming from the street, there is Arthur on his horse and on the saddle with him Downes’ widow.  
“Momma!” Archibald exclaims standing up and running to embrace her.  
“Oh, you’re a silly boy!” she cries holding him in turn.  
“Archie, what will we do?” she asks among the sobs.  
“Get outta here” says Arthur.  
As they both look at him he starts rummaging in his satchel.   
“Go. Live someplace else, start over. Here, take this…” he adds taking some money and handing it to them.  
“I don’t want your money” says Mrs. Downes and in her behavior I can see the same disdain of the son, but a different kind of pride. Not a pride for herself, but for the memory of her husband.   
“Yeah, I know you don’t want it, but you sure as shit need it” Arthur insists.  
What am I looking at? It all sounds so strange, so unreal. Arthur. What is he doing? Why is he doing it?  
“Take it” he repeats, but again, both mother and son, shake their heads.  
“I ain’t looking for forgiveness, it ain’t about that. Don’t forgive me, just take the money and get outta here, please.”  
I now stare at him too. His voice has changed, he is trembling, his eyes fixed on the ground. Shame? Repentance? What is it? Where does it come from?   
“I know I ruined your life, I suffer for it everyday, but…”  
His words kick me like a well-aimed punch and some tears come to my eyes. Not tears of sadness, or pain, but tears of anger. He suffers for it? What is he talking about? Is he faking all of this? Is he saying this things just as some sort of joke on these poor people?  
As the impulse takes me, I take the money from him with an angry and shaking hand and I force them in the arms of the widow.  
“I knew your husband, he was a good man. Do it for him. I’m certain he wouldn’t want to see you live this kind of life” I say feeling my voice trembling in my throat.   
“Who… who are you?” asks Mrs. Downes amazed.  
I give her a little smile, but I truly have no idea how to answer.   
“Go now” I say.  
“Well, thank you Mr. Morgan and…” says the boy.  
“Don’t thank him” I reply with harshness and for a moment I feel Arthur’s stare on me.  
Then, the two of them give us another look and slowly go away. As soon as they walk around the corner I turn to Arthur, tears already running, frowning and with the most severe eyes I can make.   
“What was that?” I ask.  
“What?”  
“All of that. First the reservation, now the Downes. Do you think to be a great joker?”  
He looks away. My whole body now shakes, my voice raises without control.  
“What? Are you telling me that you have suddenly found the path of redemption? That a little journey on a boat to a tropical island made you different man?”  
“Fred… I’m dying.”  
He says the words in the simplest of the ways, without self pity, without fear, without remorse. It is just a statement, something banal, as if he was saying that tonight we’ll eat again some of Pearson’s stew.   
“W-what?”  
I keep staring at him, but still he avoids my eyes.  
“W-what? What?”  
“I’m sick. Tuberculosis. Just what Downes had.”  
“He… you…”   
“Yeah, he passed it to me. What a twist of fate, right? Sent to kill a man and he kills me instead” he says with a bitter laugh.  
“But I deserved that” he adds seriously.  
“N-no, no, don’t say that.”  
“Well, it’s the truth. A few good actions won’t make me a good man. I just wanted to do something right, before I…”  
I don’t let him finish. I grab his neck and pull him to me. He is tall, even taller than Charles, so holding him isn’t easy, at least until he lets himself go and hold me in turn, patting me gently on the back as I sob on his shoulder.  
“Oh, Arthur. I’m sorry… so sorry.”  
“Yeah, yeah me too.”  
“N-no, no you don’t understand. I’m s-sorry for w-what I said.”  
I let him go looking right in his eye. He frowns. He doesn’t remember.  
“I s-said I hoped you g-got what killed Downes a-and… and n-now… oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” I yell throwing myself onto his chest.   
“It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry” he keeps patting my shoulder.  
“I-I didn’t m-mean it…”  
“I know you didn’t. Now calm down, please. Everybody is looking.”  
I let him go again and look around. Some people actually stopped to look at us. I dry my messy face on the sleeve of my shirt, breathing deeply, calming the annoying hiccup I always have when I cry like this.  
“Have you… seen a doctor?” I ask, my voice all nasal.   
“Yes. There’s nothing I can do.”  
“Are you sure? Maybe we can try…”  
“No. No. I can only try to fix some things before…you know…”“I can help you. I will help you. We will fix these things together. ‘Kay?”  
“Sure.”“Downes is done, I guess. What next?”   
“Well… John and his family” he says with a sigh. He sounds so resigned. There is truly nothing he can do?  
“Yes, yes, and make them run away before it’s too late. Yes, I also though that” I add.  
“I already talked with John. Told him to be ready.”  
“What about the others? Mary-Beth, Tilly…”  
“Try convince them they have to do the same, when the time will come.”

As soon as we get to camp, I immediately notice something’s different. I dismount Isabella and stop to stare at the three new horses tied up at the post. Three. New. Horses. Who they belong to?  
“Oh! Trelawny’s back” says Arthur.  
I look at him in perplexity and he points at one of the three horses: white mantle with light brown spots.   
“What about the others?” I ask.  
“No idea. But I reckon it’s nothing good.”We soon find out they belong to Cleet and Joe, two old friends of Micah. He “casually bumped into ‘em”, as he says, and they are going to stay with us a couple of days, because apparently we need more men for a job nobody heard talking about. Dutch’s plan, of course.  
After the recent events I feel the need to reach the kitchen and take some warm coffee. Charles comes asking about the reservation. I tell him everything. Well, almost everything. I really can’t tell him about Arthur, not because I don’t want to, but because just the thought… I think it’s better if he tells him by himself, when he is ready. Then, Miss Grimshaw asks for my help with something, and I immediately put myself to work, pushing everything in the back of my mind.  
Every now and then I glance at the two newcomers: they just stay there, seated at the table, chatting and distractedly cleaning their weapons.   
“I don’t understand. If they’re so friends with Micah, why do they barely talk?” I ask, maybe more to myself than to Sadie next to me.  
“Maybe they’re not so close after all” she replies.  
“And you don’t think it’s odd he decided to bring two strangers in camp and that Dutch… he just let them come in, like it doesn’t matter.”I say this as the boss walks closer to John and Charles and exchanges a few words with them.  
“When I came here, they tested me, my loyalty. Dutch was suspicious, he didn’t trust me. Now he just doesn’t care” I think out loud.   
“Well, I guess he changed his mind” says Sadie distractedly.   
Dutch, John and Charles start walking towards the horses. Charles looks around for a second and when he meets my eyes he runs to me.  
“What?” I ask standing up.  
“We’re going to try to stop Eagle Flies from making some foolishness. Or at least, I am” he adds with a nod towards Dutch behind him.  
“When you see Arthur tell him to reach us. He knows what to do. See you later” he says walking away.  
“Okay, be careful” I yell at his back. 

Tell Arthur to reach us. If only it was as easy as said. Arthur seems to have completely disappeared since we came back. For all the morning and all the afternoon there is no trace of him, and due to my recent discovery, I can’t help be a little worried for him.  
The sun is already going down when I sit next to the fire, with Bill and Uncle.  
“Hello” I say keeping my eyes low so that they can’t notice my concern.  
“Hi, my dear” says Uncle.  
Right behind Uncle, in the distance, I see Micah getting closer to his dear friends, sit on a chair next to them and start talking. How strange that he decides to speak with them now that Dutch isn’t around.  
“Listen I-I…” Bill stammers, distracting me from my thoughts.  
“I always thought you were… cool, you know? You’re not like the other girls. You…you work with us, with the men, and I-I…”  
Me? Cool? What is he talking about?  
“I mean, if I’m gonna ask, I’m gonna ask you.”  
“Okay…?” I murmur.  
Silence falls between us as Bill looks around him with embarrassment, looking for the right words to use.  
“Don’t you think that what’s happening is… kinda crazy?” he asks in the end.  
I raise my eyebrows. What does he want to hear from me?  
“I mean, we look so different now. What… what is Arthur doing? Why he don’t trust Dutch anymore?”  
I open my mouth, but not a sound comes from it. I don’t know what to say. Well, I know what to say, but I don’t know how to say it. Which is the best way to make him understand?  
“Cause he’s a traitor that’s why.”  
I turn around on the log, frowning at Javier who is walking towards us.   
“Just like John” he adds sitting next to Bill.  
“Why would you say something like that?” I ask.  
“Cause it’s true. Why they didn’t hang him, huh? In Sisika.”  
“Yeah, that’s strange” states Bill.  
“No, it’s not. He was bait. They were waiting for us to rescue him and…”  
“No, I don’t buy it. I say he traded us for his freedom” Javier interrupts me.  
“Oh, come on Javier” says Uncle chuckling.  
“Who put that in your mind? Micah? He says that?” I ask with much less irony than Uncle.  
“He opened my eyes” replies Javier.  
“He’s playing with your mind.”  
“So, that’s what you think? That I have a weak mind? That I would let someone play with my thoughts? That’s why you chose Charles?”I stare at him, my mouth open, not believing what I’m hearing. That story again? He still thinks about that?  
“What has Charles to do with it now?” I ask.  
“Nothing of course” he scoffs standing up again to go away.  
I keep following him with my eyes until he reaches Micah’s table and sits down. Mr. Bell meets my stare and he gives me one of those mischievous smiles that hide something, something he knows but that I don’t know, and this drives me crazy.  
I’m really just about to stand up and go ask him what the fuck is he smiling for, when some voices catch my attention.   
“What are you doing?”  
“Something I should have done a long time ago. Get your bag!”  
I turn towards the yells when I recognize Arthur’s voice. With Javier and then Micah, I was too distracted to notice he has come back. I look at him as he furiously pushes Herr Strauss from his shoulders and the little man seems almost crushing under Arthur’s touch.   
“I don’t understand” keeps saying the Austrian.  
“I ain’t gonna kill you, though I probably should” replies Arthur picking up Strauss’ things from the ground and tossing them inside his bag.   
“You disgust me and you shame us, if we could be shamed any more than we already are.”  
Arthur takes everything except the ledger with the debts, which he throws away before literally kicking him out of camp. I stand up and draw closer. I know why he is doing this. He is fixing things.   
“Now go!”  
“I don’t understand you, what are you doing?” yells Strauss backing off scared of Arthur and his sudden aggressiveness.  
“Go and get a job!” Arthur replies.  
“You know… they say the sick delude themselves. I was your friend.”  
“You and me, we ain’t decent, but those folk, they was. Now… take that” adds Arthur taking some money from his satchel and tossing it on the ground.  
“Take that and get lost!”  
As Strauss picks up the money and goes away with his usual nervous walk, I finally reach Arthur’s back.   
“You’ve been way kinder than I would have ever been. I wouldn’t give him money, first of all… hey, hey Arthur.”I take the last couple of steps towards him in a hurry when he starts coughing hard, bending on his knees, shaking and twitching just like he had some kind of spasmodic attack. As I hold him up, my heart, which already reached the underground for the pain of seeing him like this, becomes even smaller and sorrowful when I catch the sight of some blood on his hand.   
“It’s okay… it’s okay” he says quickly hiding it.   
I feel the tears coming up and I push away the instinct to start crying. Not here, not with Micah looking. I don’t want to give him any kind of satisfaction. I look away and clear my throat to recover.  
“Fixing things, right?” I ask nodding towards Strauss.  
“Fixing things” Arthur replies breathlessly.  
“I know this isn’t the right moment, but Charles asked me to tell you they’re waiting for you. It has something to do with Eagle Flies.”  
“Okay…” he murmurs standing upright to walk away.  
“No no no” I say grabbing his arm to make him stop.  
“Not now, you don’t feel well. Why don’t you rest a little?”  
His hollowed and red eyes are so different. He has always had sad eyes, sad and angry, but now the sadness and the anger turned into something deeper, into self consciousness. He knows everything, he knows what he’s doing, he knows what is waiting for him, what he is going through.   
“I haven’t been well for a while, but it hasn’t stopped me before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I was thinking... maybe speed up the publication? Like every three days instead of four? Or every two?  
> The story is already complete and you have only six chapters more to read sooo... yes, I think you'll see me more often.  
> Talking about the chapter: T-T  
> If there is something that breaks my heart is seeing Arthur realize his wrongs and make amends while he's in that condition because of TB.  
> Anyway, I hope you liked it!  
> See you sooner than expected!


	37. Helping a Friend Out

Yes, I know, I’ve thought about it, I’ve thought deeply about it, I have to choose the right words, if I don’t they are never going to believe me, they are never going to listen to me.  
“Girls, can I talk to you for a second?”   
Both Tilly and Mary-Beth look up at me. Tilly frowns.   
“Is everything okay? Why you look so nervous?” she asks.  
“I-I just… need to talk to you. Come, come.”  
What if they betray me? What if they say it to Miss Grimshaw, and then Miss Grimshaw says it to Dutch? He will consider me a traitor. And Arthur too. But do I have another choice? Leave them here? No, I can’t. I promised I would have done everything to help them.  
I lead them out of camp, down on the path that leads to the stream. Here, there is no danger that someone eavesdrops on us. Someone like Bill, or Javier, always on guard duty, always going around camp listening to what we talk about, looking at us with that suspicion in their eyes.   
I stop by the water and turn around facing them but at the same time looking everywhere but their face. Then, as I keep feeling their insistent eyes on me, I clear my throat and finally find the words.  
“I didn’t ask Karen ‘cause… you know, I’m not sure of what she could say around when she is… I mean when she drinks too much, a-and I must be sure this remains a secret between you and me.”  
We exchange a look. I take a deep breath and nod a couple of times. I tell them about Arthur’s idea, about our idea of Dutch, what we think of him recently, our doubts about his plans, about his real intentions. Then, I tell them to stay ready in case our fears become true and they have to flee without previous notice. They shake their heads, they are scared, they don’t want to do it, to leave the only family they have ever known.   
“I know, I know. I’m scared too. But, I can’t sit back and look while they ruin you. You still can make it. You still have the chance to live a decent life.”  
“What about the others? Abigail, Jack…” asks Tilly.  
“Arthur is taking care of them. I just ask you… when you go, take Karen with you.”  
Yes, it seems I have managed to convince them. It seems. When we are done, we all walk back to camp and I go sit at the little round table, thinking about everything that’s happening and how fast is is happening.   
“May I?”   
I look up and meet Trelawny’s lively and sweet eyes.  
“Sure” I say with a smile.  
As he sits, I notice he has a couple of big bags with him. Well, at least I don’t have to convince him to leave.  
“Yes, I’m leaving” he states.  
“You truly have a great power of mind reading, Mr. Trelawny” I laugh.  
He chuckles too and I sense a change of attitude: he is definitely more relaxed now. What was he fearing? A judgement or a snitch?  
“Where are you planning to go?” I ask.  
“I don’t have a long term program, but first thing… I think I’ll go to Saint Denis, pay a visit to my family.”  
“Your family?” I ask amazed.  
“Yes, my dear. I am a family man. Hard to say, but I am. And my wife and children haven’t seen me in a while.”  
“Mr. Trelawny, every time I talk with you, you surprise me more and more. And… I know it won’t make any difference, but I want you to know I kinda like you, and that you’re doing the right thing. Leaving, I mean.”  
“Thank you, Miss Faraday. Do you allow me to return the compliment?”   
“Of course.”   
“You are one of the smartest and wisest girls I have ever met.”  
“Well… I can agree on the first, but strongly deny the second, Mr. Trelawny” I reply with a giggle.  
My focus changes for a second, from Trelawny in front of me to someone else behind him. I raise a hand to make a sign to Arthur and as he sees me, he walks in our direction.   
“I-I think I gotta go” says Trelawny suddenly nervous again.  
“No need to be anxious Mister. Let Arthur say goodbye to you.”  
“Josiah” Arthur mumbles taking the chair between us.  
“I, uh, I was…”  
“Leaving again?”  
“Yes, just leaving. I’ll see you soon.”  
“Perhaps.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well… if I was you, I’d disappear too. This is pretty much over.”  
Mr. Trelawny glances at me before faking one of the most unconvincing smiles I’ve ever seen. And I believed him to be a great actor.  
“Well, I’ll be back” he lies.  
“No, you won’t. Let’s not pretend no more. Get outta here.”  
“Don’t worry Mr. Trelawny, we won’t tell anyone. Go, live your life, with your family” I add.  
“Well I-I… I must thank you, both” he says standing up.  
“Let’s not get over sentimental. Go on, place is quiet” replies Arthur doing the same.  
“Maybe we’ll come visit one day” I add smiling.  
“I hope you will. My wife is a magnificent cook” he replies taking his luggages and turning around to walk away.  
My smile fades away with every step he takes. I have the inexplicable bad feeling that I won’t see him again. I don’t think any of us will meet the others once we’ll all leave. Some of us more probably than others.   
As I think it, my eyes move on Arthur, who in the meantime has sat down again. What a terrible, horrid thought, but if what he says about his disease is the truth…  
“You should get going too.”  
I raise my eyebrows to look at him in perplexity.  
“Sorry, what?”   
“You and Charles. You should get outta here.”  
“What are you talking about?”   
“You two still have a chance.”  
A chance? Charles and I? Even if I wanted to leave the group before knowing that everybody else made it, and I don’t want to, I should be able to convince Charles, and I know for sue he won’t do that either. And then leave to go where? To do what? He is what he is and I am what I am. As I said to myself many times before, be together means go against the law, be outlaws, forever.   
“Arthur, you know I…”“Sorry to interrupt. Found a friend looking for you.”  
I jump as I hear Charle’s voice, and then slowly turn around on the chair. After all this time, he still hasn’t lost his habit to show up from improbable places and scare the shit out of me. But as I look at him I also notice the other figure walking by his side.  
“Chief Rain Falls” I say standing up.  
“Miss Faraday, Mr. Morgan. How are you?”  
“A little better” answers Arthur, and from the way they talk to each other I understand the old man knows about Arthur’s condition.   
“I hope so. I heard you’ve been at the reservation. Helped with the vaccines and not only” he says looking in my direction.  
“Well… just what we had to do” I reply feeling my cheeks blushing and glancing at Charles who smiles back at me. I truly hope he is proud of me, of the way I’ve tried to help.   
“I was sorry to hear about your son” I add but I soon realize I’ve made a mistake because a shadow of pain and sadness passes over the chief’s face.  
A couple of days ago, Arthur and Charles came back from that job with Dutch and Eagle Flies and they told me their plan was a complete failure and that the chief’s son was captured by the army.   
“I’m working on something to make him break out of jail” says Charles.  
Are you? But I don’t ask him, I just look at him and frown, and from the way he looks back at me I can tell he was planning to tell me. Sure he was, we don’t hide anything to each other.   
“Anyway, how can we help you?” asks Arthur to Rain Falls.  
“I’m sorry to impose on you again, but I believe I’ve made progress brokering peace.”  
“Really?” both Arthur and I exclaim.  
He tells us Colonel Favours agreed to a meeting, but they aren’t allowed to bring weapons. So, in order to protect themselves from any kind of trap that man could be setting, he asks us to take part at the meeting.  
“I’m in” I say.  
“Arthur?” asks Charles.  
I turn to look at him too as he shakes his head and sighs.  
“It ain’t my business, brother” he says.  
“No, I know. But it is mine. Do it for me?” Charles replies.   
“Charles, I don’t…”  
“What about the ‘fix things’?” I ask.  
Arthur stares at me for a second and from his expression I understand there must be something else if he doesn’t want to come with us.  
“Okay, never mind. I think Charles and I will be enough, right? As the Chief was saying: it’s just dull talking and ceremonies” I say.  
“No, no. I’ll do it. Of course I’ll do it. Come on” replies Arthur and he does as to go away, but I know better.  
“Hey, if you want to stay…” I say stopping him.  
“No, you’re right. I have to come.”  
“Okay. Okay, let’s go.”  
While we head to the meeting, we talk about Eagle Flies. Charles apologizes for Dutch’s behavior, for letting Rain Falls’ son being imprisoned. Rain Falls assures us his son has always been like this and it will be hard to make him change.   
Halfway from our destination, the chief introduces us two of his men: they will come with us, but they will be unarmed, as supposed by the agreement.   
The day is sunny and warm and we ride without problems to Colonel Favours’ camp. We dismount, tie the horses and approach the big table they prepared at the centre of the camp, under a dark tent. As I think we all expected Favours’ men are all armed up to the teeth, studying our figures from head to toe.   
Seated next to the man I suppose to be the Colonel, I spot Captain Monroe. He doesn’t show any sign of knowing us. Of course, it would be too dangerous to show any kind of connection to us. As soon as Rain Falls sits on the only free chair at the table, the meeting starts.   
“Colonel Favours, Captain Monroe, we come in peace” says the chief.   
Arthur and Charles move to both his sides, just like they were his bodyguards. I stand a little back, right behind him, with the other two fellers he brought with him.  
“Hello again. Who are these people?” the Colonel asks pointing his finger to us. He immediately shows to be a rude man, as I imagined from the way Rain Falls spoke of him.  
“They’re… friends of my people” answers the chief.   
“Interesting looking fellows… and I didn’t expect to see a woman. You must be truly desperate” he laughs. Rude and disrespectful. The list goes on.  
“Listen Mister… err…”  
“Chief…” Rain Falls corrects him.  
“Yes, Mister… I can’t say that silly name.”  
“In English they call me Rain Falls.”  
“Yes, yes, I’m sure they do.”  
Arthur on my left coughs. I glance at him worriedly.  
“Listen, we’re all Americans here and we… want an outcome, but quite frankly…quite frankly, I’m confused. Your men are… little more than criminals, in my opinion” says Favours.  
I look at him again and clutch my teeth. How does he dare?   
Arthur coughs again. This time more insistently. I’d like to do something, but I really don’t know what.   
“Keep breaking peace treaties we’ve made. Causing disturbances in everybody’s lives. But… I pride myself on being a gentleman. Really, I do…” Favours keep saying.   
And an arrogant son of a bitch. My breathing becomes labored, rather for this asshole’s behavior of for Arthur’s growing cough now covering the Colonel words.   
“But there are limits. So… You okay man?” he shouts to Arthur, who’s bending on his knees.   
“Can’t you see he isn’t well?” I snap waking closer to pat his back and help him recover.  
“Then he shouldn’t have come, don’t you think, Miss? Jackson, take him away.”   
“Go sit a little Arthur, I’ll take care of it” I murmur.  
“I’ll bring you some water, Mister” says the man called Jackson leading him away.  
I take Arthur’s place next to Rain Falls and exchange a worried look with Charles. I shouldn’t have insisted for him to come.  
“So, where was I?” says Favours.  
“You’re a gentleman with limits?” replies Captain Monroe and I can’t help smiling at the provocation.  
“Are you being facetious, sir?”  
No answer from Monroe.  
“I said, “are you being facetious”, Captain Monroe?” the Colonel almost yells at his face.   
“No, sir, I’m not.”  
“Chief Rains…”   
“It’s Rains Falls.”  
“Yes, Chief Rains, the thing is: it seems you lost control of the situation, you can’t control your people anymore. Or maybe they follow exactly your orders when they do what they do.”  
“My people is behaving how they always behaved. We made treaties, you gave us rules and we followed those rules…”  
“No, you didn’t. You broke the rules. And by what the United States Government says, now you have to move from the land you’re occupying.”  
“Colonel Favours, we signed a treaty, and that treaty says that land belongs to us” Rain Falls replies quietly.  
“No, you violated the treaty, and now that treaty is null. Get that through your skull. You have to move.”“But they don’t want to move!” I yell.   
For all the time the two men talked I’ve been feeling the rage rise inside me, more and more. The arrogance of this man, his complete lack of respect for other people, reminds me a lot of Bronte, and I can’t stand him anymore.   
The faces of all the present turn to look at me.  
“We didn’t ask for your opinion, Miss” says Favours.  
“I…”  
But Charles grabs my arm behind Rain Falls back and holds it tight. I close my fist and stiffen the muscles, making him understand I can’t hold myself back anymore, that I have to say something to make him stop, but he clutches his fingers even stronger around me.   
“I-I’m sorry” I say in the end.   
“So, as I was saying, the land you occupy, belongs to the Government and that’s the end of the question” says the Colonel ignoring my apology.  
As Arthur finally comes back, definitely looking better, chief Rain Falls slowly stands up.  
“Good day, Colonel Favours” he simply says turning around and walking away as nothing had happened.  
At Colonel Favours shocked expression I let out a chuckle of derision and turn on the spot to follow the chief.  
“Well, that was remarkably unproductive. I’m afraid the Federal Government was quite clear, Colonel…” I hear Monroe saying.  
“They said they wanted the peace and peace for all and that the treaty had not been broken by anybody.”  
I head to the horses. Rain Falls and his men are already mounting up.  
“Fred, Charles” I hear Arthur calling and I stop to look at him.  
He nods towards the table where Colonel Favours stood up to look at Captain Monroe with a furious glare.  
“Oh, is that so, sir? And did it want impudence, sir, from a junior officer in public?” he asks.  
“What?” I ask to Arthur in a whisper, but he just stares at the scene.  
“You insult me, you insult this regiment. Arrest this man” orders the Colonel.  
“Arrest me?” asks Monroe in disbelieve.  
“Gross insubordination. Disobeying an order. Treason!”  
“Are you mad?”  
“Erm, should we do something?” I ask out loud but to no-one in particular.  
Arthur moves, quick and silent. He reaches one of the guards and takes him from his neck pointing his gun to the man’s head.  
As I understand what he wants to do, I take out my revolver, but Charles grabs my shoulder and pulls me away.  
“Go. Quick. Get back to camp” he whispers.  
“What? No, Charles, I want to help.”“Go. Away” he repeats pushing me insistently towards the horses.  
“I want to help.”  
“Come on Captain Monroe, let’s get outta here”Arthur says.  
“Charles, let me help!”  
He takes both my shoulders and squeezes me.   
“Please” he whispers, looking at me right in the eye. If those eyes could talk, how many things they would say right now.  
“Okay. Okay” I slowly nod and when he lets me go, I run to Isabella, jump on the saddle and with a last fast glance, I go away.

I go. I run. I ride. Where? I don’t know. The branches scratch my face and rip my clothes, I manage to keep the balance on the saddle as Isabella zig-zags among the tree just by miracle. Am I leaving them? Am I truly leaving them like that?   
I pull the reins with force until Isabella stops completely and then look around, among the trees, unaware of where I am. There is no-one, no sound of voices nor horses. They aren’t following me.   
I know Charles wants me to be safe, but I can’t run away while they risk their lives. But at the same time, he expects me to go away, to be already far from here. If I go back I’ll just give him something more to be worried about. If I don’t go back, and something happens, I’ll have that on my conscience for the rest of my life.  
A sudden distant sound makes me turn around. It’s gunfire. Lots of guns, all firing at the same moment. A fight, not too far from me if I can hear it. I take out my revolver, open the barrel, check the bullets, close it and cock the trigger.  
“Ready to dance?” I ask to Isabella.  
Then, I hit the spurs with all my strength. As we speed up, together with the shots I hear shouts, very far away and lost in the woods, but I hear them.   
“Come on, come on” I whisper feeling closer and closer to my target but at the same time so distant that it’s impossible for me to reach them.   
“Uooooh!” I exclaim when the ground curves suddenly under Isabella hooves and I find myself in a clearing. Not a natural one, though. There are tree stumps everywhere, the sign that they have been cutting these trees.   
Right in the middle of the clearing there are Charles and Arthur firing to protect Captain Monroe. From the wood all around them, men in uniform are walking closer, firing back.   
Without thinking I hit the spurs. My idea is not to fight them, but catch their attention, distract them from Charles and Arthur. As I ride I aim a guard and shoot, missing him, but at least now he has turned in my direction. I ride close enough to take the foot out of the stirrup and kick him in the face before he can shoot back.   
In the chaos of shots and shouts, I hear a familiar voice call my name, or maybe it’s just a feeling, but I don’t pay attention to that making Isabella turn on herself and charging again.   
And again I aim to a man and shoot, this time hitting him right in his neck. What I’m doing is maybe the most dangerous thing in the world. On a horse, I’m a perfect target. If I don’t die today, I never will.  
“Hey, what are you doing?”  
I have no idea who says that: friend, foe, doesn’t matter. When I reach the end of the clearing space I make Isabella turn around again and run towards another guard, but this time I don’t even have the time to raise my revolver to aim at him. Isabella makes a strange movement, very similar to the one she made the day she was shot, only that this time she bends completely on her side.   
Maybe she twisted her ankle, maybe one of her hooves hit a rock, I have no idea. What I know is that now I’m falling with her. As I let go of my gun, I also take out both my feet from the stirrups because, if she falls on my leg, she’ll brake it. At the same time, I turn on myself a little so that when I hit the ground, I’ll do it on my back and avoid any more annoying scratches on my arms, or worst a broken rib.   
But I made the wrong calculations. As I fall, closing my eyes because of that void in my stomach, just like I was throwing myself from a pit, I don’t hit my back first, but the shoulder. I hit my shoulder, roll on myself, feel a deep stinging pain on the side of my head and then…  
black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Who doesn't love Trelawny? I swear the man deserves so much! When you catch the hidden conversation between him and his family in Saint Denis, you can perfectly understand how sweet the man truly is.  
> Talking about my beloved Charles: when he says "do it for me?" with that voice, oh heavens above! I would be like: of course, I'd do anything for you, don't even ask! And Arthur can't resist him either ;)  
> Anyway, hope you liked it! Thank you really for all the support :)  
> See you soon!


	38. Helping a Friend Out (Part 2)

The first thing is an awful pain, a sharp stinging pain irradiating from the side of my head. My eyes are closed tight, impossible for me to open them for now, even if I tried, just like they were glued together.   
Then, there are some hands on my face, moving my head gently but decisively, and also some words, pronounced by a deep male voice. What is he saying? I can’t make it out.   
The two hands lift my head a little and the pain intensifies. I screw my face in an expression of sorrow and the hands put me back again.  
“Fred… Fred…”  
I try to move my arms, but they are frozen, laying lifelessly beside me. I try again, this time with my legs, but the result is same.  
“Fred, can you stand?”  
With a great effort, I lift my eyelids, just what’s necessary to distinguish a blurred image of Charles.  
“Hey, you hear me? We have to go. Can you stand?”I let out a grunt, close my eyes again and slowly roll on my left shoulder to push myself up. An unexpected sickness hits my guts and my head starts spinning uncontrollably. I bring my hand to the wound and when I look at it, it is covered in blood.  
“You hit your head falling” says Charles and he stands up.   
This is the last thing I’d like to do. What I’d like to do right now is lay down for a couple of hours and sleep, but Charles grabs me from under my arms and effortlessly pulls me up, making me stand on my legs suddenly made of pudding.  
“Are you okay?” asks Arthur popping out of nowhere.  
“Sure” I whisper with a a hoarse voice that doesn’t belong to me.  
“Come on, we need to go. More could come any moment.”  
Charles puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me towards Taima. As soon as I see her, a thought crosses my mind.  
“No, wait… Isabella…” I murmur and free myself from Charles’s grip to turn around.  
My eyesight crosses the images in my brain and it takes me a while to understand what I’m looking at, but when I do, my heart falls apart in a million pieces.   
When I see her laying down, eyes open staring into the nothingness, a bloody little round circle on her forehead, right above her left eye, one of her four legs twisted in a very strange angle, broken, the bone visible under the flesh still red with fresh blood… when I see her like that, my heart breaks.   
It’s like I find again my voice, but I can’t say anything, all I can do is scream. Scream like I’ve never screamed before, except for that time when I found my entire family murdered. And just like that time, there is this pain, this dull suffocating pain on my chest.   
I stumble in her direction, pushing away all the hands that try to stop me. Screaming, crying, shaking, aching, I keel next to her.  
“I know, I know, but there is nothing we could do. We have to go, they are coming, we have to go.”  
Again, I take the hands that lay on me, dipping the nails into their flesh and pushing them away, even stronger than before. But they don’t seem to care if I hurt them.   
“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but we need to go, we need to go.”This time, those fucking hands grab me from my waist and pull me up. With my legs dangling in midair and my arms stretched forward, there is nothing more I can do. My throat is now burning for all the yelling, but it’s like I can’t control it anymore. My own body doesn’t want to obey me, and I keep screaming things I can’t even understand.

“What are we going to do now?” asks Charles.   
“I’ll bring Captain Monroe to the closest train station. You two go back to camp” answers Arthur.  
Even if my eyes are fixed on the ground, I can sense him staring at me for a second. I turn my head to the other side to hide my tears, laying my forehead on Charles’s back.  
We separate and Charles and I ride towards the camp, keeping silent for a long time and, honestly, I prefer it like that.  
If only that arrogant piece of shit wasn’t so much proud to find some kind of compromise with the natives or to let Captain Monroe give him some fucking advice, nothing would have happened. And if Dutch hadn’t complicated the relationship between the natives and the army, we would have probably found a way to convince Favours, and Isabella wouldn’t… It’s all about Dutch. It’s always about Dutch. He is the one who must be blamed.   
“How are you?”  
I don’t answer at Charles’s question. I don’t even know what to tell him. Physically, I feel like a wagon run over me, emotionally, I feel like a stumped shit, psychologically, I feel like I’m about to lose it.  
“When we get back, I have to check on that wound” he says. I raise a hand and touch my sticky hair. Most of the pain went away, but now an irritating thumping started.  
Then, silence falls and he doesn’t say anything else. I expected him to reproach me, tell me something like ‘I told you to leave’, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because he knows this way he would make me feel guilty, and this act of kindness makes me feel even worse. I don’t deserve kindness. I let him down. I let everyone down.   
When we get back, he helps me dismount Taima and walk across camp. After the fall I’m a little stiff in my movements and the dizziness doesn’t help. He leads me to the empty campfire and tells me to sit down. Abigail, Sadie and someone else runs closer to ask us what happened. Charles gets rid of them saying that we had a struggle with some men, but he doesn’t specify what kind of men and for what reason we had to fight. Mary-Beth brings some water and a clean piece of cloth and Charles begins with the cleaning ritual.  
“Sorry. Just hold on, it’ll be over soon” he says when I hiss in pain at his touch.  
I know he is searching for my eyes, I can sense it, but I can’t look at him. I feel worse than a traitor.  
“Why didn’t you listen to me?” he adds in a whisper.  
And there it is, the sentence I wanted so desperately to hear. The only problem is that he pronounces these words not with a scolding tone, but just with concern. He isn’t angry, he’s just worried. Yes, he doesn’t want to make me feel guilty.   
A heavy weight rises from my stomach, up to my chest and then it settles in my throat, blocking my breathing. I swallow, trying to push it back, but instead it goes up and up, until it reaches my eyes and comes out with some big salty tears.   
He stops dabbing the cut on my head to look at me, but again I don’t have the strength to look back. I sense his fingers on my cheek as he dries the tears and raises my chin to force me to meet his eyes.  
“I’m not angry” he murmurs.  
“How could I leave you?” I say without thinking, with my voice wet and throaty.   
These words have been stuck in my head since we left the woods, ready to be uttered as soon as I would have found the courage and when I finally say them, I feel a little lighter. Amazement appears on his face. He didn’t expect me to say something like that.   
“I-I swear I tried to go away, but then I… I-I just couldn’t.”   
“It’s okay. It’s okay” he whispers, stroking my cheek.  
I nod and smile. He understands. I know he does. He always understands.   
Some voices distract me from Charles. In the distance, next to Dutch’s tent, the boss is talking with Micah. They are sitting one next to the other and I’m more than sure their murmuring implies God knows what kind of plan that will destroy what’s left of us.  
When I came back they didn’t even come to check on me, they didn’t ask where Arthur was… They just don’t care. It’s not a surprise from Micah, but Dutch… Is this really happening? Is this what he has become?  
With that little strength left in my body, I stand up, grabbing Charles’s arm to help me.   
“What are you doing? I’m not finished yet” he says.  
“Give me a moment.”  
Slowly but consciously, I put a foot after the other until I am close enough for them to notice me and stop talking. I want to know, I want to see it with my own eyes, once and for all.   
“You should lay down, you don’t seem to be well” says Micah with his usual smirk. I don’t mind him, my stare is fixed on Dutch.  
“Can I talk to you? Alone?” I ask him.   
“If you want to say something you can say it to both of us” says Micah.  
Again, I don’t mind him. All I care about is Dutch, I want to see what he does, the way he moves, the way he speaks, to understand if he has really changed.   
He moves on his chair, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees and his joint hands under his chin, and he looks right in my eye.   
“What you want to tell me?” he asks quietly.  
Just now I move my eyes from him to Micah and then back at him. That’s the answer I wanted, the certainty I was looking for.  
“So now Micah is your faithful dog who follows you everywhere? And I’m not even allowed to speak with you in private?” I ask raising my shaking voice.  
“What you want to tell me?” he asks again.  
I tighten my teeth and take a deep breath.  
“Nothing. Never mind. I just got proof you completely lost it, Dutch.”  
“You better watch your mouth” snaps Micah standing up and taking a step towards me.  
“You lost it! You’ve used the natives, destroyed any chance they had to live in peace and for what? I’m curious now, please tell me, FOR WHAT?”   
My words echo inside the cave behind his tent and come back at me like a stranger’s voice. Dutch doesn’t reply, he just stares at me the way someone stares at a mentally ill person and I hate it.  
“You must show some respect!” shouts Micah.  
He takes another step towards me and now his face is a few inches from mine.  
“It’s all your fault, you know? You disgusting son of a bitch!” I shout back pushing him hard from his chest to make him step back.  
Two arms take me from my waist and pull me back, and from the touch I already know it is Charles. Dutch stands up to lay a hand on Micah’s shoulder and stop him from doing anything.  
“What did you tell him? Huh? What ideas are you putting in his mind?” I keep shouting.  
“You’ve always been a crazy bitch. You shouldn’t be allowed to set foot in this camp” Micah says and then they both turn their backs at me.   
Suddenly, my knees just give in and I fall on the ground while warm tears wet my cheeks again. I don’t have the strength, I am too tired to argue, too tired to fight.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charles glancing at me as he ties Taima at the post. I am so tired of this behavior, all these stares, all this silent judgement. He insisted for me not to come, saying that I still needed to recover from the injury, but of course I couldn’t let him do it alone. Besides, I prefer to be here with him, than back to camp with Micah, or Javier, or Bill. Those three are really intolerable recently.   
We’ve come back to the reservation. Rain Falls wants to speak with Arthur before we go rescue his son, so the three of us got on the horses - I borrowed one from the girls - and rode all the way up. It’s been a quiet couple of days: neither me nor them have been willing to talk much.   
“We wait for you out here” says Charles to Arthur and then he goes sitting down while Arthur heads for the chief’s tent.   
I slowly follow Charles’s movements and sit down next to him, fixing my eyes on the ground under my feet.  
“You, err, you said you though about a plan to rescue Eagle Flies. Could you… tell me a little about it?” I murmur.  
“You shouldn’t be doing this.”  
“Can you please stop saying this, Charles?”  
This is the third time he repeats these exact words and I’m just tired of it. I know he worries for me, but I had to do something. I couldn’t bear another day in that place, with my mind empty, the void in my chest and the redundant feeling of worthlessness.   
Anyway, as soon as I say the words, I immediately feel sorry for them and I reach out a hand to take his.  
“Come on, tell me about your plan” I say.  
“The fort will be protected, so we need to sneak inside without being seen. There’s a blind spot we can climb to get on the inside. Then, the darkness will cover us as we deal with the guards who’re keeping watch” he explains.  
I nod slightly as he speaks, figuring in my mind how the fort will be, how the guards will be disposed and how we will move.   
“A stealth approach. I guess we’re gonna use the bow, to my delight” I say bitterly.  
“And knives. So you won’t have any problem” he replies leaning forwards to kiss my head.  
When Arthur comes out again, with his brow furrowed and a serious expression, we get back to the horses and head to the place where they keep Eagle Flies prisoner. The dark clouds in the distance and the wet air announce the imminent rain. Well, maybe not so imminent, but it will surely come soon enough to make me shiver at the idea to spend the night up here.   
Just like the last couple of days, we ride silently following the little path up and down the mountains, until Arthur decides to break the silence with something unexpected.  
“Listen, you two. If it goes bad in there, you get yourselves out.”  
We are riding one next to the other, while Charles is ahead of us, leading the way, so I turn my head to my left to look at him and frown at his words.  
“You got… more to lose” he adds.  
I suddenly understand what he’s talking about and his words hit me like stones. He’s already dying, so he’s got nothing to lose. Charles doesn’t know anything, he still hasn’t told him and I haven’t either, respecting Arthur’s privacy. Of course Charles is not an idiot, he understood Arthur isn’t well, but he doesn’t know there is no chance for him to heal. I feel my chest aching as we exchange a meaningful look.  
“You know what I mean” he murmurs.  
How is he feeling right now? Where does he find the strength to fight everyday in this situation, knowing in the end he won’t make it?   
“Oh, come on. Don’t start talking like that” says Charles.  
I move my eyes full of tears from Arthur to Charles’s back and then to the mane of my horse, quietly drying my tears.  
“I know I didn’t tell you before, Charles, but… I saw a doctor, and it’s not gonna get better.”  
“Oh, Arthur…”  
After a sigh, Charles says something that I never thought him to be capable of. He always says to be bad with words, so it always surprises me when he shows he truly isn’t this bad after all.   
“Any day we can die. Uh? We’re riding to break an Indian Chief’s son out of a cavalry fort. We could all die tonight. In a way, you’re lucky. You still have time to make amends. The others… Hosea, Lenny, Sean, the Callander boys… They didn’t. They all were outlaws and they will be remembered for the bad things they’ve done. You, you’ve got the chance to… do something better. My guess is maybe that’s why you’re here.”  
Yes, he surely knows what to say, and he knows how to see the pretty view even in moments like this. It makes me think of how many things I still don’t know about him. We always have so little time to spend together, he rarely wants to tell me about him, his past, his view of life.   
I wish I could know him better, but we still have plenty of time for that. When we’ll be done with this shit, when we will finally fix everything, we could leave the group and start a new life together.   
When we finally reach Fort Wallace, the rain already started, but the sun behind the clouds is still too high in the sky and we need darkness to enact out plan. We decide to take cover among the trees. Here neither the rain nor the eyes of the men at watch from the fort towers can reach us.   
Sleeping is impossible. The sound of the drumming rain on the leaves and branches, the distant thunders echoing in my ears, and the feeble voices of the guards in the fort, they all keep me awake and ready for the action.   
We have to get inside there, rescue Eagle Flies and get out, all without dying, being captured, or injured. This is going to be a great challenge, even for us.  
As I watch the sun setting behind the hills, the rain intensifies and the temperature falls all of a sudden. Now, I clutch my jacket around my chest, shivering and sniffling.   
“Do you think we can move?” I ask after a shiver runs down my spine. Maybe some movement would warm me up a little.  
“Yes, let’s go. We must not be seen” replies Charles.   
He takes his bandana and covers his nose and mouth. Arthur and I follow his example. They both brought a bow while I will just use the knife: we’re not hunting now and there is no room for mistakes.   
Charles also takes the rope that, from my understanding, we are going to use to climb the wall. Something tells me that part won’t be easy. Not with this rain anyway.  
I cover my face and follow them towards the only light in the darkness of the night given by the lanterns inside the fort. We move low and quiet until we reach the front gate. Closed. Well, of course I didn’t expect it to be open.  
Two guards are keeping watch, one next to the other, talking in a confused mumbling.   
“We have to kill them or they’ll see us” Charles says to Arthur. “You take one and I take the other. With the bow. Ready?”   
They synchronize their movements and manage to hit the two men at the same time, making me envy their teamwork. Then, we keep going until we reach the wooden sidewall of the fort.  
“Careful, there are patrols on the walls” I hear Charles whisper and with a finger pointed to the sky, he signs us the lantern moving on our heads.   
I crouch and put a foot after the other with extreme caution, when…  
Charles’ hand is already on my chest before I’m aware of it, pushing my back against the wood. I hit the wall with a dull thud. My heart starts beating fast, my breathing becomes short and nervous, my chest goes quickly up and down under Charles’s hand as I move my eyes from him to the man leaning forward from the wall. He is looking at the dark country in the distance with his lantern swinging in his hand and the stain of light hitting the ground some inches from my foot. If he looks down, right now…   
Then, just like he appeared, he disappears, deciding that there is nothing suspicious and going away, leaving us in the darkness again. I can’t help taking a deep sign of relief.   
“Okay, let’s go” Charles whispers.   
We reach the back of the fort, where the wall is short enough to be climbed. Charles takes the rope and ties a hook at one of the ends. Then, he makes it swing and throws it up in the air. The hook attaches at the wall with an incredible accuracy and I cannot help but admire my man’s skills right now.  
“Okay, I’ll go first” he says grabbing the rope.  
“No wait. Let Arthur go first” I say.  
They both look at me as I remove my bandana. Why have I said that? I don’t know. Suddenly, an idea came to my mind, and idea that creates fear in me, and I need to be alone with Charles for a moment. Just one.   
“Maybe I’ll need your help to climb” I lie looking at them.  
Arthur doesn’t need to be convinced. He takes the rope and points his feet on the wall. When he takes the first steps, I walk closer to Charles and pull down the black cloth revealing his face. He open his mouth to complain but I give him no chance to speak, grabbing his neck with both my hands and crushing my lips against his. Under the cool rain, his skin feels warmer than usual. I go little deeper, digging my nails on his shoulders and forcing him to open his mouth, so that our tongues now can touch.   
“Sorry, I had to. No one knows what will happen inside there” I say breathlessly as we part.   
“Let’s be careful, okay?” I add putting the bandana on my face again and taking the rope to hoist myself up right after Arthur.  
I just take a few steps upward, pointing my feet on the wet wooded wall, when the muscles of my arms start burning and I realize how difficult it is going to be to end this climbing. I mean, even more than I thought.   
I try to keep the pain of the muscles out of my mind, at least until I see Arthur sticking out from the wall, his arm stretched in my direction. With a last effort, I manage to grab his hand and before I know it, my feet are on a plain surface again and I am panting loudly.   
As soon as Charles gets to us, we exchange a look and I smile under the bandana. Who knows if I put some strange ideas in his mind with that kiss? Maybe the same ideas I’m having. But now it isn’t the moment to think about that. A man comes out from one of the enlightened towers and we all take cover behind some boxes. Arthur sticks out, pulls the wire of his bow and an arrow hits the man right in his head.   
We give a look around and notice we have to walk the entire wall to get to the other side, where the jails are and where Eagle Flies will surely be. On our path we find another two men, so just like before Arthur and Charles synchronize the shots.  
We reach the second tower and Charles checks inside before letting us in. Walking low and quiet as always, I get to the opposite door, but I suddenly stop and hide behind the doorframe as soon as I see a man, a guard, on the passageway with his back against the railing, smoking a cigarette.   
“Shit, there’s another one” says Charles.  
“I’ll try and shoot him” replies Arthur.  
“No, if you stick out he’ll see you” Charles warns him in a whisper.  
I think fast. Maybe it won’t work, but I have to give it a try.   
“I can take care of him” I say.   
They both look at me and shake their heads. I do as to stand, but Charles lays an hand on my shoulder to stop me.  
“Trust me” I add pushing it aside.  
I adjust my shirt and my hair, pull down the bandana and, with all the confidence I’m able to summon, I walk towards the guard.   
“Hey, who are you?” he asks when he notices me and he stands from the railing to face me.  
“Sorry to disturb you, Mister. The Tenant told me to speak with, uh, James. Do you know where I can find him?” I ask in turn, thinking quickly.   
As I keep getting closer and closer, he frowns, maybe thinking about every James he knows to understand what I am talking about.  
“James? What are you…?”  
No, this isn’t working. Plan B. I take out the knife fast and swift and stick it into his throat. When he opens his mouth to scream I cover it with my other hand. He bends on his knees, grabbing on my arms and on my hips as he falls down. I make him lay on the ground without a noise and take the knife out. I just have the time to look at the blade covered in blood that the rain already washed it, making it shiny again.   
“Well done. Now keep moving” says Arthur coming next to me and pushing me behind some other boxes.  
We finally arrive to the staircase that leads to the big courtyard. The campfire in the center and the numerous lanterns allow us to count the guards. Too much for us to deal with them silently and we can’t even reach the jails without being seen.  
“Arthur, you have to distract them. Get on that tower and try to put an arrow into the lantern above that stack of wood. Start a fire” Charles orders pointing to the boxes with the word ‘ammunitions’ written on it.   
“Be ready. When they all run to the fire, we’ll move fast to reach that door” he whispers to me.  
“Don’t you think they’ll see us eventually?”  
“Sure they will. But we’ll find a way out.”  
We exchange another look. Yes, that kiss was probably a bad idea. Maybe is the fear, the adrenaline of the moment, but I feel restless, and the more I think about that kiss, the more it feels like a promise for something else. And having him right by my side doesn’t help.   
I try to distract myself, looking at Arthur in the distance leaning out from the tower and shooting the burning arrow. As soon as the yells and the turmoil start, I move, crouched and with my head low, running towards the heavy iron door of the jails.   
I realize there is a voice coming from the inside when I have already pushed the door open. The squeaky sound of the hinges alert the guard, who is giving his back to the door, and he turns around to meet my wide open eyes. I bring my hand to my knife, but he notices my movement and grabs both my wrists. We struggle. He is bigger and stronger than me and he shakes and swings me around like a rag doll, making me lose my balance. He probably wants to push me on the ground, to tie my up, maybe?  
With the last movement he gives his back to the door again just when Charles comes in. I can’t see him properly behind the shape of the giant who’s restraining me, so I have no idea of what he is doing, why he isn’t shooting the guard, attacking him.   
I’m truly about to yell at him to help me, when suddenly the skull of the man cracks open in a half, Charles’s machete stuck among the brains, blood and bone pieces. I blink a couple of times and move my eyes away from that horrid scene. The man’s grip on me gets feeble and his lifeless body falls on the ground.   
“Are you fine?” asks Charles jumping the corpse to get closer.  
“Yeah, fine” I reply still avoiding to look at the guard. Shit, Charles can surely be dangerous and merciless when he wants to, and this makes me appreciate him even more, because now I know he is controlled and balanced and that he knows where and when he has to do certain things and act in a certain way.  
“Charles? Is that you?” asks a voice from one of the cells. I reach the door and peer through the bars.  
“Hi Eagle Flies. Having fun?” I joke trying to open the door, but I soon find out it is closed.  
“A lot. You have to find the keys” he replies.  
“Here, I got them” says Arthur pushing me gently aside. I have no idea when he reached us.  
“Come, your father sent us” he adds as he cuts Eagle Flies free.  
“My father? He told to come and kill guards?”   
“No, he didn’t say that. Are you okay?”   
“Of course. I enjoy being tortured. Cleans the mind.”   
I smile at his sarcasm and put an arm around him to help him walk, but he loses his balance and falls on me with all his weight.   
“Whoa, careful” says Charles holding us both.   
“I can…” I begin, but a sound I hoped not to hear stops my words.  
“The alarm” I murmur.  
“Seems we have to shoot our way out” states Arthur taking out his gun and walking outside.  
“Can you fight?” Charles asks to Eagle Flies.  
“I think so.”“Stay with him” Charles addresses me as he hands him one of his pistols.  
“Okay.”We run out of the jail and take cover. Eagle Flies’ movements are slow, the cuts and bruises on his body keep bleeding, and he must stop after every shot to blink a couple of times and take a deep breath, too tired and broken to fight for a long time.   
For all the shooting, he and I don’t move from our cover, firing our guns every now and then, while Charles and Arthur do most of the work. Suddenly, silence falls. I stick out and realize all the guards are dead.  
“Come, this way. I remember seeing a hole in the walls when they brought me in” says Eagle Flies standing with some difficulties.   
He leads us to a particular spot in the wall where obviously there was a hole before, but now it is closed by wooden planks.   
“Damn, they must have fixed it” the boy swears under his breath.  
“Err… what about the front gate?” I ask perplexed. To me it seems the natural answer.  
“And you think there won’t be more of them out there?” asks Arthur walking past me.  
“Maybe we can use that cannon” remarks Charles pointing at something behind my back.  
“Just what I’m doing” replies Arthur and when I turn around to look at him I see he is already moving a big cannon to face the fixed hole in the wall.   
“You better stay away!”   
His words are covered by a huge roar. I cover my ears with my hands and give my back to the explosion, but the wave of invisible force created by the impact is strong enough to make me lose my balance, and I fall on my knees anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> Another of my favorite mission: rescue Eagle Flies with Charles. I like it because of all the stealth approach and because there is my beloved Charles of course. It was a fun chapter to write, even if a little sad at the beginning for Isabella's departure.  
> As I said I'll try to publish more often these last chapters (if I don't forget -.-)  
> See you soon!


	39. Tensions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M LATE!!!  
> I know, I know, I'm sorry!! I was out of town without my laptop. I am awful, I know T_T  
> As an apology, I'm going to post two chapters today.  
> Can you forgive me?

“Arthur was right, of course, they were waiting for us outside. But you know how lucky we are. We easily managed to run. Charles brought Eagle Flies at the reservation and we came back here. That’s all” I say.  
“Quite a thing” replies Sadie throwing her knife again.  
This is one of those boring mornings in which Miss Grimshaw hasn’t much work to do, so I decided to join Sadie, here in this sort of hill a little bit out of camp. I sat on a rock, polishing my gun and telling her about how we rescued Eagle Flies, while she told me about what happened in Saint Denis and how Colm O’Driscoll was finally executed as she keeps throwing that knife to the big tree in front of us.  
“You know the reverend left, don’t you?” I ask after a little.   
I don’t know why it came to my mind. I was thinking about that night when we came back after rescuing the Chief’s son, tired and soaked. Everybody was asleep but the reverend, seated next to the fire, to which we approached looking for some relief from the clothes drenched by the rain. He was oddly awake and sober.  
“Yes, I know. And I think Pearson is going to leave soon” replies Sadie.  
It seems everybody is leaving now. I know it’s better this way, they are just doing what they must to save their lives, but it also saddens me that everything is ending like this.   
“You still have work to do?” Sadie asks out of nowhere.  
“Why?”  
“I know where the rest of the O’Driscolls are holed up. I want to end things.”  
I raise my eyes from my gun to look at her back. Honestly, I can’t believe her sometimes.  
“Sadie… Colm is dead. What’s left of his gang won’t last much without him. I guess things are pretty much ended” I say in exasperation.   
She walks to the tree and takes the knife form it. Turning around, she gives me one of those looks that mean only one thing: she won’t give up just because I told her to.   
“I still haven’t found the bastard who killed my husband” she says.  
We stare at each other and in her eyes I find something, a familiar feeling, a kind of emotion that reminds me of myself until some time ago. It’s a torment, a seed, a worm planted in her brain, eating it day after day. She won’t find peace until she kills the man who brought everything away from her. I know. I’ve gone through this, and just like me, she deserves the chance to get her revenge.  
I nod, showing my support. Yes, I will help her. She’s about to say something else, but some footsteps distract us.   
“Arthur, I wanted to speak with you” says Sadie as we both look at him.  
“Just a moment. I’ve got something for you” Arthur addresses me.  
“For me? What is it?” I ask standing and putting my revolver back in its holster.  
With a smile, he makes me sign with his hand to follow him, and I do as I am asked without further questions. While we walk, exiting the woods and going towards the horses, I immediately notice the new big ivory white horse next to his.   
“This is Buell” Arthur says pointing at it.  
I stop suddenly to him.  
“A… friend of mine entrusted me for taking care of him. And I know for sure you’ll do a good work” he adds turning around to meet my eyes.  
“A-Arthur, I-I…”  
The words tremble in my throat. I can’t believe what I am hearing. He thought about me! With all the people in camp, he thought to give me this horse! Maybe because he knows I don’t have one anymore and that taking care of a new one can help me get over Isabella? I feel so thankful right now, but it isn’t just thankfulness.   
In these last months, my life has changed completely. I’ve changed my habits, I’ve changed my thinking, and I am happy to say that I have met some of the greatest people I could ever meet. Charles, Miss Grimshaw, Abigail, and him, Arthur. We had a troubled start, but I can sincerely say that I consider him as a true friend. And now that everything is ending, now that our future is a big question mark, I feel closer to him than I’ve ever felt to anyone in my entire life.   
“I-I don’t know what to say, just… thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me” I stammer with my eyes already stinging for the tears.   
Oh, what an awful awkward moment! He clears his throat and nods, looking everywhere but to me, and I fix my eyes on the ground so to hide my emotion.   
“Well, I’ll go see what Mrs. Adler wants” he says finally breaking the embarrassing silence.   
“Sure” I murmur.  
As he goes away, I take my time to study my new horse. His mantle is well kept, his horseshoes are in good condition, his eyes are clear and lively.   
“Your previous owner took good care of you, didn’t he?” I murmur in his ear as I stoke his soft neck.  
I remove the saddle from him to put mine, then I take the brush and clean him a little. There’s no need to do it, but this way he’ll start to know me and recognize my touch.  
“Hey, Fred, we’re going. It’ll take us a couple of days.”I turn around to frown at Sadie, followed by Arthur.  
“What? Where?”  
“To finish off the O’Driscolls” she replies mounting on her horse.  
“Now?”  
“No better time than the present.”  
“But, you said… You don’t need my help?”  
“Me and Arthur will be enough” she says making her horse turn around and already leaving.  
“A-alright. Be careful!”  
I shake my head watching them go away. She and Arthur will surely be enough, no doubt about that.   
When I’m done with Buell, I take a look towards the camp. As always, Dutch and Micah are talking together in front of Dutch’s tent. Micah’s friends are seated around the campfire with Bill and Javier. Uncle has dozed off next to Abigail and Tilly. I keep moving my eyes among them looking for Charles and I spot him behind one of the wagons, bended over with something in his hand. What is he doing?  
Curious, I walk closer and I soon understand that he is fixing the wheel of the wagon, and that the thing he has in his hand is a hammer.  
“Do you ever rest?” I joke leaning my shoulder on the wagon and crossing my arms on my chest.  
“Yes, when I sleep” he jokes back lifting to look at me.  
“Seriously, you should take some time for yourself” I reply getting closer and taking the hammer from his hands.   
“For what?”  
“I don’t know. Do something you like.”  
He brings a hand to my face and puts some hair behind my ear. His eyes have a strange light, but I think I know what that means. It’s not the first time he looks at me like this.  
“Do something I like. Like… you?” he murmurs and a smile appears on his lips.   
It takes me a moment to understand what he means. I open my mouth in shock and widen my eyes while I take a step backwards and slap his hand away.  
“How. You. Dare?”  
He takes me from my shoulders and pushes me against the wagon. My grip around the hammer gets feeble and I let it fall on the ground when his lips clash against mines. My heart starts beating fast as I grab his hips with both my hands to make him lay on me. I love to feel him down there.   
We haven’t been alone since the night we rescued Eagle Flies. We haven’t kissed, nor touched, we almost haven’t looked at each other in these days, maybe only before going to bed, and I need him, I want him. Now. I don’t care how many people there are around us.  
“What’s wrong with all of you? Huh?”  
Javier’s voice is like a slap of reality and it forces me to let Charles go. Good Lord, there’s not a single moment of peace in this camp.  
“Come on, come on, what’s wrong?” the Mexican asks again.  
Javier is a little away from us, talking to Abigail, Tilly and Uncle.  
“What do you mean what’s wrong?” asks the latter.  
“Were is your trust? Huh? Where is your faith?”  
Charles and I exchange a meaningful look.   
“I’ve got a son, Mr. Escuella. I want him to live” exclaims Abigail.  
“It’s by staying together that we live” replies Javier.  
Then, he looks in our direction and I don’t for what reason or strange thought in his deviated mind, he decides to walk towards us. After a quick glance at me, he addresses Charles with the same surly eyes he’s been giving him recently.   
“What’s your problem brother?” he starts.   
“No problem” replies Charles with his usual calm tone.   
“No, you’ve got a problem! Look at how you’re acting” Javier says pointing his accusatory finger at him.   
I look at Charles out of the corner of my eye, and he just keeps staring at him crossing his arms on his chest. I don’t understand, how is he acting? To me Charles is perfectly normal, maybe the only one who didn’t change his attitude at all.  
“I don’t have a problem. Do you have a problem?” asks Charles now with a bold inflection in his voice.  
“I don’t know yet. But use your brain friend. Use your brain” says Javier glancing at me with accusatory eyes.  
What is he insinuating now? That Charles isn’t able to think by himself? That I use some kind of power on him to make him do what I want?   
“I’ll use my brain, and you use yours” Charles replies.  
Whoah! Good comeback, honey. You know how to shut people’s mouths.  
“Still with that story, huh? What did she tell you? That I have a weak mind? That we’ve all been poisoned by Micah?” Javier starts yelling.  
Charles takes a step towards him, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him. Under my touch, I feel his body is tensed and trembling with rage.  
“Let’s go” I say pulling him.  
“I know you’ve been doing stuff behind Dutch’s back. You and that other traitor” adds Javier. I know he’s talking about Arthur, but I try not to care and turn around to walk away.  
“Thank God he’s dying. So he won’t be a problem for long.”  
Something happens inside me, something breaks, something clicks. I turn on my heels and cover the distance between him and I in a couple of wide steps. I hit him with all the strength I have in my arm, right on his cheek. He stumbles backwards touching where I slapped him and looking at me with deadly eyes.   
“Don’t you dare” I whisper.  
I wait for him to reply, to try to hurt me, to give me any excuse to hit him again, but he doesn’t. He moves his eyes from me to Charles and then he simply walks away. I know this isn’t the end of it. 

This morning Jack asked me to play with him. Since Cain the dog mysteriously disappeared, surely attracted by something more interesting than a bunch of outlaws fallen in disgrace, I have to keep him company, especially in those days when the tension is too much for the adults to bear, and yells and insults fly across camp. So I play with him.   
Since Jack is very attracted by wooden sticks and flowers, we gathered some and I tried to find the most creating way to put some kind of dolls together. We made a knight and a princess - at least I told him so, but to actually see the knight and the princess you need a lot of imagination - and thanks to the little horse I’ve given to him some time ago, we’ve been able to make up a story.  
“Miss Faraday, would you come with me, please? I need your help” Miss Grimshaw calls me.   
I tell Jack to go back to his mother and follow Miss Grimshaw who puts two empty buckets in my hands and asks me to go take some water at the stream. I slowly walk the distance and reach the river. It’s really close to the camp, but also hidden at the sight because of the downhill ground. The water looks fresh and clear so I decide to remove my boots and fold my trousers to dip into the stream.   
Up here, in Beaver Hollow, the weather is cool and pleasant, completely different than the torrid south, so that the ticklish water of the river brushing against my calfs makes a little shiver run down my spine.   
I fill the first bucket and turn around, stumbling on the tiny rocks of the river bed, and take a few steps towards the shore to leave it on the ground, completely ignoring the figure that stands in front of me until I look up eventually, and startle.  
“Javier” I murmur when I see him standing there with his hands on his hips, staring deeply at me.   
“Need help?” he asks, but his voice makes me understand he’s not here to help me. Did he follow me? What does he want?   
I walk out of the water and stop to face him. After what he said yesterday, I can’t be kind nor polite with him, even if I tried.  
“No” I reply with the rudest tone I can use.  
His eyes, the way he’s looking at me, they’re scary, and even if I’m trying to play brave right now, to show no fear, I can’t stand his gaze for much. I take a step as to go away when he grabs both my arms to stop me.  
“If it wasn’t for Charles yesterday, I would have taught you a lesson” he murmurs.  
“So you would hit a girl, but when it comes you have to face a man you hide your tail and run away. You’re a coward!” I spit out.  
“I know my limits. It seems you don’t.”  
As he says this a little smile curves his lips and he grabs my face with both his hands to pull me towards him. Understanding his intentions, I push him back and try to walk away from him, but my feet meet the empty bucket next to me and I stumble and fall on the pebbly ground.  
He wastes no time. I just have the time to let out a yelp for the pain of the fall that he throws himself on me covering my mouth with one hand and with the other blocking my wrist.  
“You don’t know what you’re missing. I would love you in a way he will never do” he murmurs so close to my face that I can smell the tobacco he probably just smoked.   
What now? He wants to rape me? And then what? Go back to camp like nothing happened? He knows he can’t do that, Charles would kill him. So if he really has this intention, after he’s done what he wants, he must kill me.  
While I keep thinking about the worst scenery, he slowly removes his hand from my mouth, letting me breathe. I frown slightly. What is he waiting for? What are his true intentions?  
“Think about it” he murmurs and then, fast and unexpectedly, he presses his lips against mine. I keep frowning when he stands, adjusts his clothes and walks away, like nothing had happened.   
I follow him with my eyes and when he’s finally out of my sight I take a deep breath and lean my head on the ground. I expected worst, I definitely did, but, after all, it seems that even someone like Javier knows when to stop. I just wonder what was he thinking. He knows I will tell Charles about what has happened, and that Charles will surely face him, and that he has no chance against him. Unless…   
What if he wants me to tell Charles and create a situation? Put one against the other, have some kind of excuse to make Dutch send us away, or worst kill us for betrayal! Oh God… I can’t tell Charles. Not for now at least. After all, a kiss is not a big deal.  
I walk back to camp with my head full of thoughts and my heart heavy with concern. I leave the buckets full of water to Miss Grimshaw and then I go help Mr. Pearson with the stew, all with my gaze fixed on the ground, fearing to meet the eyes of somebody who could understand what’s going on in my mind.   
When I reach the kitchen and find Pearson there, I can’t help but sensing he’s a little down as well.  
“Are you okay Mr. Pearson?” I ask.  
“No… but don’t mind me. It’s just… all this goddamn mess we’re in, it worries me… more that I can tell.”  
I stare at him as tenderness and understanding raise in me. I know how he feels, I feel it everyday, too, but maybe for him it is harder. They’ve been together for years, they were like family. It must be terrible. It is terrible and I know it.  
Reaching out a hand, I take his arm and squeeze it a little, making eye contact with him.  
“We’ll be fine” I whisper.  
“No, we won’t. If Pinkertons don’t kill us, we’re going to kill each other.”  
His realism strikes me, but he is right. I would like to tell him something and try cheer him up a little, but we get interrupted.  
“Fred.”   
I turn around to look at Mary Beth.   
“Fred we… we’re leaving” she whispers with her voice full of sadness and excitement at the same time.   
“Now?”   
“Tonight. Me and Karen… and Uncle will come with us.”   
“What about Tilly?”  
“She wants to stay. For Abigail and Miss Grimshaw, she says.”  
“Okay…”  
I look at her right in the eye not sure of what to say or what to do. I agree with her, it’s a good time to leave, it is necessary, and I’m relieved she has finally taken this decision, but at the same time I’ll miss her, with her dreaming stare, her naïveté, her sweetness. I take her shoulders and pull her close to me in a hug. “Good luck” I murmur holding her tight for a brief moment before letting her go.  
“I hope to see you again” she says with shiny eyes.  
“You will. Charles and I, we’ll come visit.”   
As she walks away, Mr. Pearson calls me back to my duty, but my mind is still with Mary-Beth and Karen. Who knows what will become of them. I wish them all the best: a good life, with good people, just what they deserve. And old dear Uncle… to be honest, I don’t know what I hope for Uncle.  
“Hey.”  
“Hey Charles.”  
I raise my eyes on him and smile, while my mind immediately goes to Javier and the doubt fills again my chest.   
“I took your advice” he says.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You told me. Do something I like. Come, let’s go.”  
“W-wait, what?”   
“Come!”  
I turn around to look at Mr. Pearson, who nods encouragingly, before I run after Charles. When I am close enough I noice he is carrying a couple of folded bedrolls under his arm.  
“Where are we going?” I ask.  
“You’ll see.”  
“You know, I don’t like when people play mysterious.”  
“You’ll like this. And you have to ride your new horse. He must start to know you.”  
He’s right on this, and even though I have no clue of where he wants to take me, I trust him, completely and profoundly.  
We ride for some time, getting out of New Hannover and reaching Ambarino. Buell is very different from Isabella: she knew me and I didn’t have to do much for her to follow my instructions: a little twist of my wrist, a slight movement of my foot and she would have immediately understood what to do. Buell doesn’t know all of these things of course, so I guess it will take us a little before being in complete synchrony. Besides, he’s stubborn as a mule and sometimes it happens he doesn’t follow one of my orders straight away.   
Charles leads me West, climbing the mountains and stopping when we find a little wood. Slowly, we walk among the trees until he stops and dismounts.  
“We leave the horses here” he says taking the envelope of bedrolls from his saddle.   
I quietly follow him, all the doubts, all the fears, all other kind of thoughts have disappeared, there is only him and the curiosity to know what he’s planning. The trees and the ground end suddenly with a ridge that opens to the distant landscape and the setting sun. The air is fresh and sparkling, in contrast with the warm sun that turns the fields in a see on orange light. The mountains to the west are of a pale bluish-green and there is a lake somewhere near us.   
My lips open in a smile and I let out a whispered “oh my…”. Everything, and when I say everything I mean everything, gets out of my mind. I don’t think, I don’t feel, the only sense that is working is my sight, capturing all the beauty around me. After I don’t know how much time, I turn look at Charles, who apparently has been staring at me.   
“H-how did you find this place?” I ask.  
“You know I like to come scouting around here” he answers shrugging.  
“It’s amazing.”  
“I hoped you liked it.”With my eyes still fixed on the orange-yellow-azure sky, I am surprised by his sudden contact. He places an arm around my waist and throws the bedrolls on the ground. “There are some blankets here. Take some wood and start a fire, I’m going to fetch something for dinner” he adds.  
“So this is your plan? Spend a night out of camp?”  
“No. My plan is spending some time in a place I love, doing something I love, with the girl I love.”  
I smile and bite my lower lip. The girl I love. This is the first time he says something like that.   
“I love it” I say in the end.  
By the time I light the little camp fire, he’s already back with a rabbit and the sky has already turned black. He skins and cleans the animal and we put it on the fire while I take the blankets and arrange them on the ground.   
This place is perfect, and I keep wondering how did he find it, hidden by the woods and not visible at all from the street.  
Looking around at the dark landscape, I spot the moon right above us and stop a second to stare at it. Again, I sense Charles walking closer and his arms around me.  
I smile again and turn round to meet his eyes.  
“Charles…”  
“What?”  
“I…”  
I love you. I feel for you something I’ve never felt for anyone else. I want to spend with you my whole life and take care of you.  
“I…”  
I love you, in every single way. Physically, mentally, spiritually. I feel like I’m meant to be with you and only you in the whole world.  
“I… never mind.”  
“Is everything okay?”  
Suddenly, something comes back to me, like a long gone memory. Should I tell him what happened with Javier? Now it would be a good time. We’re away from camp and he can’t do anything impulsive that could jeopardize our relationship with the group. But… I don’t want to ruin this beautiful moment. No, I won’t tell him now, we still have time.  
“Yes, yes don’t worry. I just…”  
I lift my stare on him again and smile reassuringly.  
“I love you.”  
When our mouths meet, the most wonderful feeling rises in me. He always has the power to make me feel amazing every time he touches me. I reach his back with my hands and clutch to his shirt, pulling him closer to me, and making him understand how much I want him. Finally, after all this time, after all these days and the mess we have been through, we have the chance to spend some time together, alone. I stop the kiss and take his hand leading him back to the fire.  
“Down” I command pushing him on one of the blankets.  
As he sits I straddle him and start unbuttoning his red shirt. He moves his hands on my thighs squeezing a little with eagerness. As an impulse takes me, I push his back onto the ground.   
“Whoah!”   
I laugh at his surprise and lean forward to leave a trail of light kisses on his chest, slowly going down, and down, and down. But I don’t know why, he decides to take me by my shoulders and stop me to look at me right in the eye.  
“What?” I frown.  
“Shouldn’t we eat first?” he asks.  
I scoff and turn my head to glance at the rabbit on the fire.  
“I think it can wait.”


	40. Farewell

It is early in the morning when Charles and I gather our things to go back to camp. On our way, we bump into Arthur and Sadie returning from the O’Driscoll’s hideout. I immediately notice Sadie’s shirt covered in blood.  
“How did it go?” I ask.  
“It’s done” she replies.   
As we all ride together, I catch up with Arthur and make Buell follow his pace.  
“How are you?”  
“Fine. Mrs. Adler did most of the work. She’s pretty wild” he laughs.  
“Yeah, I know. She’s great” I smile to myself.  
“How’s the new horse?”   
“Stubborn, but strong” I say leaning forward to pat Buell’s neck.  
“Yeah, Hamish always complained. Where have you been by the way?”   
I turn on the saddle and exchange a look with Charles, smiling again.   
“Spent some time together. You know, away from… camp.”  
“Ah… I understand” Arthur says with a playful tone.  
We chat about this and that on our way back. I tell Arthur and Sadie about Mary-Beth, Karen and Uncle, that they will probably be already gone by the time we get there. It was no surprise, we wanted them to leave. What we didn’t expect was to find Dutch having a tantrum because of it. All the others are sad, Miss Grimshaw most of all, even though she tries to hide it, but Dutch… Dutch is furious, calls them traitors and other names that make my blood boil. But Dutch isn’t the only one who angers me.  
Around mid morning, I walk to the kitchen and take something to eat. There, hidden behind the wagon, I find Charles and John talking in a low murmur and I decide to join the conversation.   
“I’m just… nervous, you know” Charles says to John.  
“Me too, friend. Me too” he replies.  
“Just seems like we’re making a whole lot of trouble for… for no real reason.”  
“Making trouble for those who deserve it always seemed reason enough for Dutch.”  
“Yeah but… now we’re making troubles for people who don’t deserve it” I say.  
“Yeah, I know. It seems he doesn’t care who he’s fighting no more” adds John with a shrug.  
Then, some heavy dragged footsteps make us all turn around and Bill appears from behind the wagon.  
“So… what are you three scheming about now, huh? Goddamn traitors.”   
Here we go again. First Javier, now Bill. Why? Why can’t they see the truth?  
“You” he starts pointing one of his big fingers at John’s chest.   
“You were nothing but a street rat when he found you. He believed in you, when no other son of a bitch would. And him…” he adds moving both the finger and the eyes on Charles.  
“You ain’t been nothing but a bad apple from the start. You ain’t even been with us a full year and you think you know better!”  
Charles doesn’t seem to care much of what Bill is saying, but I do, and to call him a bad apple is wrong. He has no idea of what he’s talking about, he doesn’t know him as he thinks he does.  
“And you…” Bill goes on now turning to me, but I slap his hand away. I know what he’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it.  
“And you Bill, don’t you think you know better. Just because you think yourself as the loyal son it doesn’t mean you know everything. You’re not even capable to understand what’s happening around you” I spit out.   
“And you don’t even know what being loyal means. You never trusted Dutch. You never believed him.”  
“Yes, I’ve never trusted him. And you know what? I was right. I was right since the beginning.”  
We stare at each other and for a moment it looks like he doesn’t have any idea of what to say next. It’s Bill. What did you expect? A philosophical speech? Then, when it finally seems that his narrow mind comes up with something and his face is lightened by the taste of the victory which is about to come, some distant sound of horses calls for our attention.   
At the beginning a think about the army, finally come to arrest us all for the runaway of John Marston, or Captain Monroe, but then a most dreadful thought gets into my mind. What if it is Pinkertons?   
Only the sight of Eagle Flies chase away all the fear and gives space to the curiosity to know what is he doing with his miserable army of… what could it be? Fifteen men?   
“Mr. Van der Linde! Mr. Morgan! Charles!” he calls out entering the camp on his horse.  
Bare chested, face and body covered in some strange paint signs, he seems to have recovered pretty fast from his period of residence at Fort Wallace  
“They tried to kill my people for oil. For oil! Today we ride once more. Ride with me, ride with us. Ride with us against the factory.”  
So, it seems he finally got it, the war he wanted so badly.  
“I love your courage, son. It is a thing of great beauty” begins Dutch, but again we get interrupted by a single horse breaking into camp.  
“Stop! Everyone stop!” yells chief Rain Falls jumping down from the saddle with an agility I didn’t thought him capable of at his age.  
“My son, my last son, don’t” he begins addressing Eagle Flies.  
“When I was your age I fought. I saw death. I have killed. The men I knew were slain. My first born, your brother, had his head smashed by a drunken soldier. My wife had her throat slit. We made peace. I knew not to trust, yet I had no choice.”  
Shit! I never truly realized how terrible his story was.  
“Maybe you were right, maybe the slow death is worst than a fast one. Maybe none of these men are good. Maybe a world in which they came to us is a world that we cannot endure. But endure we must.”  
His words have the power to keep us all absorbed, staring at him, following his movements, praying that in the end his son will listen to reason. But for all the speech, Eagle Flies has an expression of pure disgust on his face.  
“Father, you are tired.”  
“Do not die for pride, my son. We have suffered too much in this trick. The earth, the water, they have no pride. They endure, and we must endure.”  
I look at Charle and Arthur next to me. There must be something we can do, something we can say. It’s not too late.  
“My only boy, my precious boy, do not mistake my strength for weakness. As your chief, I implore you.”  
“Your words mean nothing to me, father. Ride with me, now!”  
And with a rear of his horse and a loud cry of war, Eagle Flies and his (almost) fifteen men, ride away to battle. I fix my eyes on the poor desperate Rain Falls, standing there among the dust raised by the horses, and I feel a great pity for him. I can’t help it. They won’t listen to him anymore, he has lost his power on them, and he’s going to lose his son and all his people, unless we do something. But what can we do? We have already done anything we could, even too much I’d dare to say.   
“Please, Mr. Morgan… after you helped me, after we spoke, this is just a trap. My son, my people, will all die” says the chief now walking towards us.  
“You helped this feller, Arthur?” asks Dutch. Right, he doesn’t know.  
“What of it?” asks Arthur in turn.  
“What else you been doing behind Dutch’s back?” snaps Micah. Why, even in this situation he has to be the usual snake!  
“Anything that could have avoided that” I reply pointing my finger to the direction Eagle Flies just disappeared. But it is more than obvious that they aren’t listening to me, because they don’t care, they are just looking for an excuse to call Arthur traitor once again.  
“Please. The wars are over, we have lost. These young men will be annihilated. Please” the Chief begs us.  
“I’ll see what I can do” says Arthur and then he turns around to look at Charles and me. We both nod to show our support.  
“Who else will come with me?” he asks heading to the horses.  
“Oh, I’ll ride, Arthur. Who knows what other secrets I’ll learn about” says Dutch.  
Sadie, John, Javier and Bill decide to come with us too.

We follow the same road Eagle Flies and his men took, riding south-west towards the oil fields. Again. Last time we almost destroyed the place, this time I reckon it will be the end of the “Cornwall Kerosene & Tar”, especially after dear Mr. Cornwall’s death.  
Riding in a pack like this has a strange feeling, maybe because when we did it lsat time, when we assaulted the Braithwaite property, we were all united, together, while now I can feel the huge gap between us, the mistrust.   
“What else have you been doing behind my back, Arthur?” asks Dutch.  
“I was trying to stop this mess from getting any worse. Clearly that didn’t work.”  
“Why the hell would they attack the oil fields?” asks John.  
“What do you mean? It’s perfect” says Dutch.  
“So you put this idea in their minds?” I ask him, almost yelling trying to hide the shock.  
“Partly… the army, the government, the industrialists… they’ve taken everything from these people. Wouldn’t you fight back?”  
“You’ve handed them a death sentence” replies Arthur.   
“Just like John, if we hadn’t got him out of that prison” adds Sadie.  
“Hey, show some goddamn respect” shouts Bill.  
“You’ll know when I ain’t showing respect, Bill” she replies.  
“I had a plan. I still have a plan” says Dutch.  
“What plan? What goddamn plan, Dutch? Tahiti? Timbuktu?” exclaims John.  
“That’s enough! What’s wrong with you all? What happened to loyalty?” Javier yells back.  
“Said the man who takes the first chance he has to make us revolt one against the other” I say making him turn to look at me.   
“Enough! Right now, it doesn’t matter how we got here. These men need our help. I have a plan. This is the plan. So either stick with me to cut loose. Because I am tired of this constant dissent. Long tired of it” says Dutch shutting everybody up.  
With a last look full of loath, Javier and I concentrate again on the road. I wonder if Dutch is faking or if he is really this blind that he can’t see the mistakes he is doing, all the bad consequences his actions are causing, all the deaths.   
For the rest of the time we ride silently, but it’s not hard to guess the thoughts and moods of all my companions.

When we finally are able to spot the ‘Cornwall Kerosene and Tar’ in the distance, the scene that opens up to our eyes is dreadful: the entire factory is burning and from what we’re able to see Eagle Flies’ men are being slaughtered. It looks like hell.  
“It’s a massacre” states Charles next to me looking through his binoculars.  
“Can anyone see Eagle Flies?” asks Arthur.  
“There, going across the walkway” replies Charles.  
I narrow my eyes, but I can distinguish the man among the caos.  
“So, you coming Arthur?” asks Dutch.  
“I’m gonna try save him, this fight is unwinnable. You go and distract them and let me get to him.”  
“Have it your way. The rest of you, ride with me” orders Dutch, but not everybody follows him when he goes away. Actually, almost nobody does: Sadie, Charles and I, with some of Eagle Flies men, we all choose to stay with Arthur.  
We head to the opposite direction than Dutch, getting as close as possible to where we last saw the chief’s son. We dismount the horses… and so the fight starts. It’s not like anything we have ever faced before, even more chaotic and bloody than Valentine, almost as frightening as the shooting in Saint Denis. Leviticus Cornwall could be dead, but his men are still here, prepared to fight and willing to do everything they can to protect their factory.  
Yells, shots, duck to avoid a bullet, roll over, stick out, shoot, take cover, shoot again, run… Shit, I can barely understand what I’m doing. I hear familiar voices calling my name or saying things I can’t figure out. I just try to kill as people as possible and stay as close as I can to the others.   
Eventually, we find Eagle Flies.   
“Where are my men?” he asks immediately.  
“I saw them fighting on the other side. Dutch’s with them” replies Arthur.  
“Let’s go, we have to reach them.”  
We literally run around the corner when Sadie takes me from my arm and pulls me on the ground. I hit my hip in the fall as I bring my arms over my head taking cover from the shots. Then, I quickly crawl behind some boxes trying to protect myself from the machine gun bullets. It’s a Gatling, the same Agent Milton brought in Lakay, and it is impossible for us to stick out and fire back.  
“I’ll take care of it” says one of Eagle Flies’ men running to the back of a building.  
With Sadie we exchange a look as we stay still behind the boxes, waiting for our chance to carry on. I can’t believe we are really in the middle of a war. Dutch has put each and every one of us in a greater danger than I would have ever thought. What kind of leader is he? What kind of value he gives to the life of his people?  
The machine gun stops working unexpectedly. Our native friend kept his promise.  
“Come on, let’s push up” yells Arthur running out of his hiding and bringing me back to reality.  
We keep killing a man after the other, running around the factory and getting on the other side where Dutch, Javier, Bill and John are struggling with the last few men. When the shots finally end, silence falls and my ears, not used to the quiet after all that caos, start ringing.  
“So good of you to join us” says Dutch with a sarcasm I can’t stand anymore.  
“Hello, son” then he says to Eagle Flies who is still looking around searching for I don’t know what.   
“Hey.”  
“Saved your life?” asks Dutch nodding towards Arthur.  
“He did” says Eagle Flies.  
“You’re quite the hero, Arthur. Ain’t you?”  
“Just the regular good guy. Same as always” Arthur says with Dutch’s same sarcasm.  
“What is it with you Arthur? What is it?”  
“We could ask you the same question” I step in, making the boss aware of my presence.  
“I thought we where starting to get along” he says.  
“Yeah, I thought it too. I thought we were similar. But now… we… we just can’t understand you anymore” I reply making a sign with my hand so to point at Sadie and Charles and John behind me.  
“Ah, the doubting. The doubting. Come on, let’s get out of here, all of you” he orders like I had said nothing. Then, he addresses Arthur again, ignoring the rest of us.   
“Come with me, let’s finish things.”  
“Finish what?” asks Arthur.  
“Ah, the doubts. You know why I wanted them to attack this place?”  
“I have no idea.”  
“Javier, you get them and you go” Dutch commands.  
“Until I find all my men, I’m not leaving” says Eagle Flies.  
“As you wish, rest of you get out of here.”  
Why he wants so send us away so desperately? Why he wants to remain alone with Arthur? I don’t know, but all this situation smells bad and I am not leaving.   
He and Arthur walk inside the factory, while the others start doing what the boss asked them. I turn around, giving my back to the building and walking towards Charles. I have to tell him about my doubts.   
“What will we do now?” I ask in a whisper.  
“We’ll gather the natives and escort them back to the reservation, be sure they don’t have any more troubles” he replies.  
“Okay, but… listen I don’t want to leave…”“You still haven’t told him about our kiss, have you?”  
Javier’s voice feels like a cold shower. I jerk around to look at him and I can’t miss the evil smile that broadens on his lips. He’s doing it on purpose. Now? After all this time, after all we’ve been through today?  
“What?” asks Charles.  
Oh, no…  
I wasn’t ready for this. I don’t know where to start and the chaotic amount of different feeling inside me don’t make it easy at all. I want to strangle Javier, make him swallow his own tongue so he won’t be able to speak ever again, but I also want to explain myself to Charles, tell him that what he is thinking about is wrong, all wrong. Yes, this is what I have to do, this is the important thing. I can punish Javier later.   
I turn towards Charles, our eyes meet and… suddenly I lose all the words. His eyes. His eyes are the exact mirror of disappointment and disgust.   
“Kiss?” he asks and his voice is like a knife inside my chest.  
“Charles… I… I can explain…”  
But it turns out I can’t explain myself at all, because a sound coming from inside the factory catches our attention. Gunfire.   
Exchanging one last desperate look with Charles I run to the door Dutch and Arthur walked through some minutes ago and peek inside. There is no-one here.   
“The shots come from the other side” I say.  
“Where’s Eagle Flies?” asks Sadie.   
For a moment we all turn our heads right and left, looking for him, but there is no trace of the chief’s son.  
“He went looking for the others” answers one of his men.  
As soon as he says this, the gunfire ends.  
“Whatever it was, it’s done” remarks Javier mounting on his horse.  
“Let’s get outta here” I hear Dutch’s voice say from behind me and I turn around just in time to see he’s come out from the door I just checked.   
“Where’s Arthur?” I ask as he walks past me to reach his horse.  
“He’s coming, now come on!”  
Another shot comes from the building and I suddenly understand what is going on.  
“You’ve left him fighting?” I yell at Dutch.  
“Oh, don’t be stupid, I would never do such…”  
But his words are stopped by Arthur’s painting as he comes out from the factory, carrying a bleeding Eagle Flies. He looks like he has been shot.  
As soon as they come out, Arthur and I exchange a look and he makes me sign to go and help him. No need to be asked twice, I run to him and put Eagle Flies’ arm around my shoulder.  
“Come on, I’ll take you to your father” says Arthur and we bring him to his horse.  
One of the natives helps us to hoist him on the saddle and then Arthur walks to Dutch with his eyes both full of pain and anger at the same time.  
“You… you run away” he says.  
“I did no such thing. Now all of you stop being fools and accusing me of things I’d never do. Let’s go. They could be back here any moment.”“I’ve got to take the boy to his father.”  
“As you wish. Usually is, nowadays.”   
“I’ll be back when I can” Arthur says to me.  
“No, I’m coming with you” I reply.  
“And me too” I hear Charles saying.   
I exchange a meaningful look with Sadie as she mounts up with the others and they all leave  
“I swear to you, he left me behind. He did” Arthur whispers to us.  
“We believe you, Arthur” I say as something more powerful than simple hate towards Dutch starts rising inside me. I am scared, more than I have ever been. All this is completely out of our control and if we can’t even trust each other anymore, if we can’t count on the others to watch our backs, what can we do?  
We leave immediately after Dutch, following the road north, heading to the reservation. I thank the incoming darkness and the fact that Arthur and Charles and the native friend of Eagle Flies are all focused on him and his conditions, so that they don’t notice I’ve started to cry silently.   
It all went to hell. And Charles… he is upset because of what Javier said, I understand, but I am genuinely hurt by the fact he thinks I could have done something like that. I love him and only him and I told him more than once. I have to find a moment to explain myself. I have to.   
It’s Arthur who breaks the silence.  
“I’m sorry, my friend… I’m really sorry” he says to Eagle Flies.  
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”  
“Dutch… Dutch is… he’s not the same anymore. He wasn’t trying to help no-one but himself.”  
“We’re grown men, nobody forced us to do anything.”  
“Maybe I’m talking of my people as much as for yours… You okay, Charles?”  
When I hear his name, I can’t help looking at him.   
“Not really” he replies glancing in my direction with the same cold eyes of before.  
My heart sinks until it reaches the ground and new tears come out. How can he think something like that? How? After all we have done, after all we have been through. I have to explain myself. I have to.

At the reservation we find chief Rain Falls and what remains of his people waiting for us. His face makes me believe he was expecting something would happen to his son.   
“Get him to me” he says to Arthur and Charles walking inside his tent.   
While they do so, I decide to stay out of it, give them the space and privacy they need. They are loosing a son but also the future of their people. The rest of the village has gathered around the chief’s tent, waiting for someone to give them the bad news. Even though no-one said it, I reckon everyone is thinking it. His wounds were pretty bad and he has lost a lot of blood.  
When they come out again, Arthur and Charles have a gloomy shadow on their faces. Charles most of all. I know how much he cared for them, how he hoped that with his help they could avoid a war, and now the world crashed on his shoulders.   
“He didn’t make it” confirms Arthur when I look at them with my demanding eyes.  
“Charles” I whisper walking closer to him, ready to give him some kind of comfort, but he ignores me and turns around to give his back at me. Again, I feel my eyes stinging and my chest hurting.  
“What are they gonna do now?” asks Arthur.  
“They must move, and fast. I’ll stay and help them” says Charles.  
“W-what?” I murmur, but still he doesn’t look at me, just like I’m not here anymore.  
“Yeah, we’re gonna stay too” says Arthur.  
“No my friend. You got others who need you. Good people” Charles replies putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and then, the two of them hug, saying each other a silent goodbye.  
“What about you? You’ll stay here, right?” Arthur asks me.  
But I don’t answer immediately. I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to do. I’d like to hide in a corner and cry for a couple of hours before taking my decision, I need time, I need to think about it, but there’s no more time, no more thinking.   
Charles is staying, so I suppose I shall stay too. But what about Abigail, Jack, Tilly, John and the others? I promised I wouldn’t have left until they all were safe, but I can’t leave Charles, either.   
“I…I” I stammer moving my eyes from one to the other. “I understand if you want to go” says Charles with a cold voice that does not suit with him, still without looking at me. Why? Why is he pushing me away like this now?  
“Charles… please I-I… I need to talk to you” I say glancing at Arthur.  
“I’ll wait by the horses” he says understanding my hint.   
I take a step towards the man I love more than I love myself and try to make eye contact, but he does everything he can not to let it happen.  
“Charles, please… it’s not what you think.”   
My voice is shaking uncontrollably and in the cold night I feel the warm tears running on my cheeks and become colder and colder in their short path to my chin.  
“What is it then?”  
“I didn’t tell you about Javier because… I was afraid you could do something impulsive and that it could have been the excuse for Dutch to sent us away or kill us for betrayal.”  
“So you don’t trust me.”  
And finally, his eyes meet mine. He’s hurt, I can see that. He’s so hurt he’s closing me out.  
“You know that’s not true. I love you” I add taking his face between my hands, but he grabs my wrists and pushes my arms down, looking away again.  
“Do you hear me? I love you” I keep saying not caring about the fact that his hands now are tightening so much that it starts to hurt.  
“And I’m coming back to you, I promise.”  
Oh God, forgive me for what I’m doing. I don’t want to leave him, I promised never to leave him, but I have to. There are people who need me, and I promised to keep them safe too.  
“I’m coming back and we’re going to help the natives to run away and then we’ll live our life, together, as we are supposed to do, because I love you and I’m not leaving you. But I need to know Abigail and Jack and Tilly and everybody else is safe. Okay?”  
He lets go of my wrists and nods, but I can’t tell if he agrees with my decision or not.   
“I’m coming back to you. As soon as I can” I repeat.  
Then, I take again his face between my hands and kiss him. He lets me do what I want, but he remains still as a statue. He doesn’t touch me - that touch I need so desperately right now - he doesn’t kiss me, he gives me no comfort at all. My punishment for not telling him the truth, my punishment for keeping things from him.   
New tears come out as I let him go. I understand. I understand he’s hurt and he’s going to need some time to trust me again. I understand. But it hurts all the same.   
I turn around and walk towards the horses with a heavy heart. The heaviest I’ve ever had. There’s a part of me that wants to make me stop and run again to him, but the other part keeps making me walk, because she knows that, if I just glance at him right now, I’m never going to leave.  
“What? You coming?” asks Arthur in disbelief.  
I just mount on Buell. A more than good answer to his question.   
“You should’t come.”  
“Please, Arthur. Just let’s go.”  
He walks closer and grabs the reins of my horse forcing me to look right at him.  
“If you leave now, you’re going to regret it” he murmurs.  
I take the reins from his hands with a strong tug and look at him with severity.  
“I don’t think this is any of your business” I say.  
With a sigh and a nod he walks back to his horse and mounts up. Right before we exit the reservation I find the courage to turn around and meet Charles’s eyes. He hasn’t moved from where I left him. He is still standing there, looking at me as I make maybe the biggest mistake of my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really hope that with these two eventful chapters you have forgiven me. Or maybe after reading this you just hate me more, I don't know ahaha  
> Writing this was heartbreaking, truly. I cried all the time. I wanted Javier to be important to the story, I wanted his jealousy to be dangerous, and so I did, even though it wasn't planned at the beginning.  
> That's it for now. I'll publish again in a couple of days.  
> We're almost there friends.  
> See you soon!


	41. Failure

We decide to camp halfway from the reservation and let the night pass. We light a fire and take two cans of beans to eat, but neither Arthur nor I are able to put anything in our stomachs. I feel sick with myself.  
How could I be so stupid? Why didn’t I tell Charles about Javier? Why didn’t I explain myself properly?  
His eyes. Dear Lord, his eyes were… He hated me, he was disgusted by me, he felt betrayed. I know, I saw it.  
I sense Arthur staring at me all the time. I know he wants to ask me about what happened, maybe give some advise, make me change my mind and go back, but I don’t give him the chance. Turning my back to the fire, I spend maybe the worst night I’ve ever had. 

We reach Beaver Hollow in the morning. My eyes are swallow and hurting after I cried for most of the night and I have this insistent knot in my throat. I can’t deny I’m having a hard time, and today is going to be even harder.   
When I dismount Buell, I stop to give a look at the semi-deserted camp. I get to know Mr. Pearson has left too. The kitchen is empty and so is his tent.   
“I’ll go speak with Dutch” says Arthur moving towards the camp.  
I follow him drawing closer to the campfire with all the people seated around it, those who still haven’t run. Sadie, John, Bill, Micah, Micah’s friends and… Javier. They notice us as we walk towards them.  
“How’s the boy?” asks Sadie.  
“He… he didn’t make it” replies Arthur.  
I move my eyes on Javier who stares back at me. It’s his fault, he did it on purpose. Why? Why talking about the kiss in front of Charles? A personal revenge on me? Or maybe he was really trying to provoke some kind of reaction in Charles?  
“I’m sorry” says Sadie, but her words come to my ears as a distant mumble.  
I can’t stand his face anymore, I can’t stand his presence, the way he looks at me, aware of the great pain he has caused to me, and to Charles. I have the strong desire to strangle him.   
“Where’s Charles?” asks Sadie.  
Hearing his name, some sort of electrical shock runs through my body and I can’t control myself anymore. I take two big steps and throw myself against him. The chair where he is seated cedes under the weights of the both of us combined and I find myself rolling on the ground. I bring both my hands on his throat and start squeezing hard while I feel him struggling and pushing me away.  
“Stop! Stop! What’s wrong with you?” asks an unknown voice.  
A lot of hands take me and put me back on my feet against my will. I shake and jerk freeing myself and staring at Javier while he stands up and adjust his clothes. My eyes full of tears push Sadie to walk closer and ask me what happened.  
“It’s all his fault! He did this! He did this!” I start screaming pointing my finger to the Mexican.   
“I did nothing. Nothing at all” he shouts back.  
“He hates me, he hates me because of you!”  
“Who?” asks Sadie.  
“C-Charles” I whisper and my legs suddenly don’t sustain me anymore.  
A couple of strong arms take me from under my arms.  
“That’s not possible, how can he hate you?” she asks with a strange sweet voice that I’ve never heard on her. “His eyes… y-you should have seen h-his eyes…” I sob.  
I hear her gently ask John to bring me to her tent and the two arms now slowly drag me away.  
I sit down and automatically take the water Abigail is handing me. It takes me a little to calm myself down and while I do it, I keep staring at the people gathered around the fire. Javier is whispering something to Micah and Bill who are laughing at his words.   
“I swear I’ll kill him” I murmur to myself.  
My attention is caught by Arthur and Dutch, a little bit further, talking outside Dutch’s tent. They seem to be arguing, as always, and I’m sure Dutch is trying to convince Arthur that this time his wonderful plan is going to work, and surely Arthur is trying to talk some sense into him.   
“We have work to do my friends, let’s go” I hear Dutch addressing the crowd around the fire.  
“Come on, we are gonna borrow a little money from Old Uncle Sam and be out of his hair, once and for all!”“Okay, I gotta go” says Sadie standing up to follow the group of men now heading to the horses. I also stand to do the same.  
“Hey, you don’t think it’s better if you stay here? You’re not in the conditions to do this” she adds putting a hand on my shoulder.  
“No, please Sadie… I-I need to come. There is something you…”  
I move my eyes on Arthur and John in the distance.  
“…you can’t understand. I have to come.”  
She stares at me for a moment before nodding and letting me go. I turn around and exchange a look with Abigail and Tilly.   
Now there’s no-one else in camp to take care of them, apart from Miss Grimshaw of course. They are alone and if something should happen they’ll be in danger. But I can’t stay, Arthur is going to need my help to make John survive and run away with his family.  
“Be careful, we’ll be back soon” I say and then run to mount on Buell.

This is it. We are riding all together once again, and probably for the last time. I can’t help but thinking this is the end of it, for good this time. I have no intention to stay with these people one minute more than necessary: I’ll keep an eye on John, be sure he makes it after today, bring him safe and sound back to Abigail and Jack, and help them go away. Then, I’ll go back to Charles and I think I’m going to bring Arthur with me. I want him to have a decent death, surrounded by people who really care about him, not these ungrateful bastards. And Sadie… Sadie, Tilly, Miss Grimshaw, they can come too if they want. We’ll build ourselves a better future.   
“John, you go get that dinamite, we’ll meet back up outside Saint Denis” orders Dutch distracting me from my thoughts.  
“I’ll go with him” says Arthur.  
To be honest, I have no idea of what the plan is. The only thing that I have understood from their talking is that it has to do with a train. Nothing more.   
Arthur and John take a little path on the right, while we keep following the main road, and so we separate. As we ride no-one says a word if not to ask about the plan and, from now and then, I feel the eyes of Javier or Bill on me. They don’t want to talk in front of Sadie and me, they know we would tell Arthur or John everything they’ll say.   
Dutch keeps murmuring something to himself, just like he’s having some kind of private conversation and on his face I can read the concern that comes before every heist. Micah, on the other side, acts like he’s going to take a walk in the park and not like he has to rob a train.  
We reach the outskirts of the city and stop. The waiting for Arthur and John is endless. I try to focus on the job that’s waiting for us, but my mind decides to play some tricks on me and Charles’s face keeps popping out.   
“You want to tell me what happened?” asks Sadie coming by my side.  
I move my eyes from her to Javier in the distance. Yeah, what do I have to lose in telling her? I start from that day near the river, when Javier kissed me, then the reason why I didn’t tell Charles, and finally our last conversation last night at the reservation.   
“Listen, if I must be honest… I don’t think Charles is angry at you and I’m sure he will understand when you tell why you kept that from him” says Sadie in the end.  
“You don’t understand. He was disappointed. I don’t think he’ll forgive me.”  
“Trust me, he will. He loves you.”  
At these last words, some tears blur my vision, but at the same time a smile curves my lips. He loves me? I doubt that. Especially after last night. I let him down. He can’t love me.   
I nod and dry my cheeks with the back of my hand. Arthur and John are here, I have to focus on the job. We move again and enter the city, walking through roads and alleys until we reach the train station. The eyes of every citizen are on us. A bunch of people at horseback with cowboy hats and all kind of guns. I would stare too.  
“Okay, she’ll be here any time. Cleet, Sadie, you board half way along. John, you and Arthur are gonna board at the back. Rest of you, follow Micah and I, and join once they stop the train” orders Dutch dismounting his horse.   
We all do the same and look in the direction from which the train should come. A distant whistle and the shaking of the trails announce her arrival, but… when she appears from around the corner, spitting her dark smoke towards the sky, we all immediately notice she’s not slowing down and we exchange a couple of puzzled looks.  
“Should I just… sneak on now?” asks Arthur with sarcasm as the locomotive runs past us.  
“Goddammit…” swears Dutch looking at Micah, who opens his arms in disbelief.  
“Well… everybody mount up!” he orders.  
“We still going through this?” asks Arthur.  
“Of course we are.”  
I jump on Buell and hit the spurs chasing the train. I follow the others but I don’t really care if we get to rob this thing or not. I don’t care about the money. I don’t care much about anything. Just my friends’s lives.   
The plan hasn’t changed: John and Arthur have to jump on the train and try to stop it, while the rest of us will follow them on the horses. As soon as we reach a flat carriage I look at the two of them balancing on their saddles and jumping on it, landing on their backs. From the way they do it, it doesn’t look difficult, but I’m pretty sure it is.  
Obviously the train is guarded, and due to the fact that it belongs to the dear departed Mr. Cornwall, it has double protection, which means twice the guards. I take out my gun and start shooting, killing every man who stands in the way of Arthur and John and allowing them to run from a carriage to the other until they reach the front. Some of the others, like Sadie and Bill, do the same, but Dutch and Micah for example are doing nothing to help them.   
I aim to a man on the carriage: he’s taken cover so it’s not easy to hit him. I shoot a first time, trying to force him to stick out so that Arthur or John can kill him, but I hit the carriage. I shoot a second time and then a third. When he finally decides to show himself, it’s Arthur who hits him in the chest. But the man is still holding a rifle, and, as a reflex takes him when he gets hit, he pulls the trigger, firing blindly inside the carriage and breaking a lantern.   
The flames develop quickly, so that now Arthur and John are stuck.   
“Marston, jump on my horse” yells Bill who’s riding in front of me.   
“Arthur, here!” I exclaim when I understand what he is doing.   
Buell is tall and strong enough not to fall under Arthur’s weight when he jumps on him. He tightens his arms around my waist and I hit the spurs to go faster, following Bill past the carriage on fire.   
Arthur grabs my shoulders to balance on Buell’s back and jumps again on the next carriage, followed by John, Bill, Sadie and Cleet. I decide to join them. I’ll surely be more useful on the train than here.   
I take my left foot out of the stirrup and place it on the saddle. Then, trying to find my balance on the running Buell, I do the same with the other. No, it’s not easy at all. At. All. I am risking my neck like I’ve never done before. But what do I have to lose? My life? Who cares?  
Collecting all my strength, I pull with my legs, leaning over the carriage. I hit my ribs when I land on the wooden platform and I immediately understand why they always land on their backs.   
“John, uncouple that carriage, before it blows us all up” I hear Arthur shouting.  
As a copule of black boots run past me, I let out a groan of pain and bring my hand to my belly, slowly standing. John takes the nail that connects our carriage to the rest of the train and pulls it out. Just in time, because as soon as we leave the carriage on fire behind it blows up and off the trails with a loud bang.   
“We’re good?” I ask taking out my revolver and recharging it.   
“Yes, fine” answers Arthur.  
Only when I actually turn around I notice the strange tripod at the center of the flat carriage, but I can’t understand what it is until John speaks.   
“You better man that gun, Arthur. We got more on the horses.”I follow his finger pointing to some man at horseback chasing what’s left of the train with us on it, and as I do so, the sons of bitches start firing. I take cover and prepare myself to fire back when… I don’t know what happens, I have no idea, no clue of what it could have been.   
I hear a shot and then John… John seems to lose his balance and struggles with himself not to fall from the carriage. I can see his foot, half in half out the edge of the car while his hands try to grab the air around him.   
“JOHN!”  
I take a step in his direction and try to take his hand, but our fingers only brush against each other, and it is too little for me to grab him.   
“NO!” I yell looking at his body hitting the ground as the train keeps going.  
“I’ll get John, you protect that money” shouts Dutch before making his horse turn around and going away, followed by Micah, Javier and Joe.   
I stare at them for a moment, looking at that point in the distance where John disappeared. He can’t be dead, he just can’t.  
“Man the gun Arthur, I’ll go stop the train” says Bill.  
“Stop the train? Whatever you do, do not stop the train. You secure up ahead, but keep us moving. I’ll deal with that patrol when they come through” replies Arthur.  
“I’m coming with you” I say to Bill.  
I’ll keep an eye on him, be sure he doesn’t fuck anything up. After all, Arthur is here with Sadie. I’m pretty sure they won’t need my help.   
Bill runs forward keeping his rifle high, ready to fire to anything that moves. On our way to the engine we find a couple of men more, but nothing that we can’t handle.   
“This must be where they keep the money” he states as we reach a steel carriage with a heavy door to protect it.  
“First the driver, we must be sure he doesn’t stop this damn thing” I say.  
We climb the iron ladder and get to the roof. I can see the engine, a couple of carriages forward, but there’s no driver inside.  
“Where is he?” I ask.  
Without bothering to answer me, Bill runs until he reaches the end of the roof and then jumps down, disappearing from my sight. I follow him, landing on another flat car. There, I find him struggling with a man, a man with a driver hat. He is skinny and short and he seems to have no chance against Bill who forces him to take a few steps backwards until he gets to the edge of the car.   
“Don’t kill him! We…”   
The man grabs Bill’s rifle who, to free himself, punches him in the face and makes him fall out of the train.  
“… need him alive.”   
Bill realizes what he’s just done and turns around to look at me.  
“Well done” I say sarcastic walking past him to get to the engine. It seems I have to take care of it, as always. But when I finally get there I find a great number of buttons and levers that I have no idea of what they do.   
“Now what?” I yell above the roar of the engine.   
“I’d like to remind you that Morgan and Marston blew up that bridge. So if we don’t stop this thing we’re all going to die” he yells back.   
“Okay, so… what should we do?” I ask pointing at all the levers and buttons.  
“I guess… this is it” he replies and grabs a red wooden lever pulling it down. I hear a loud crack and then Bill shows me the red piece of wood that broke in his hand.  
“Oooh you must be kidding me!”  
“It ain’t my fault…”  
“There’s no time for this, we have to go back and tell the others” I reply moving him aside to walk away.   
What an idiot! If we die because of him, I hope we end up in the same place, so I can kick his ass for all the eternity!  
When we get back to Arthur, Sadie and Cleet, I notice they already busted the door of the steel carriage open, with some dynamite apparently, and now they are taking the big sacks of money out of it.   
“Morgan, the driver’s dead and this thing ain’t stopping, we got to get off” shouts Bill.  
I roll my eyes. Yeah, of course he made it sound like it wasn’t his fault.  
“Okay, let’s go. Take this” says Arthur handing me one of the heavy bags.   
“We need to jump” says Sadie next to me and I lose no time in throwing the money out of the carriage and follow it immediately after.   
This time I land on my knees, feeling the skin opening with a deep sting when I hit the ground right before rolling a couple of times on myself. Shit! These cuts will hurt like hell tomorrow.   
I don’t even have the time to get up that the loud noise of steel against steel fills the air. I take Sadie’s hand and make the great effort to stand and then together we follow the others to the ravine edge, where the train disappeared and crashed down.   
“Jesus… We’re alive” whispers Cleet.  
“Yeah, just about” replies Arthur.  
“Well, let’s move” says Bill turning around.  
I walk back to where I left the sack with the money and I try to lift it, realizing how heavy it is, when Dutch and the others show up. I only need a glance to understand something is wrong. I’m missing a man.  
“Where’s John?” asks Arthur when he notices his absence too.  
Dutch doesn’t answer immediately. First he looks away and shakes his head. No need to speak. I have already understood.   
“No.”  
The word comes out from my mouth even though I didn’t want to say it.   
“I tried… I tried” says Dutch.  
“No, no.”  
“Come on, let’s go, before another patrol turns up.”“No, no, we have to try.”“I have already tried.”  
Why am I even talking to him? He’s probably lying. I need Arthur. Arthur will do anything to save John.   
I look left and right looking for him just to realize he is already by my side, only I had forgotten. I place myself in front of him and force him to look at me. But something tells me this time I’m fighting a lost battle, because Arthur has given up too. Yes, I can see the defeat in his eyes.  
“No, Arthur…” I start.  
“You heard Dutch, he’s…”   
His voice breaks, he can’t say it either.  
“No, he can’t be. We have to go looking for him, be sure…”  
“The law probably took his body already, there’s nothing we can do.”  
“No, no.”But he takes my arms and pushes me away when I try to stop him. I turn around, looking for Sadie now, and she too has a resigned look on her face.   
No, I don’t believe it, he can’t be dead, he just can’t because this would mean I have failed and I can’t accept failure. Keep him alive, make him run away with Abigail and Jack was the only thing that mattered and I failed.   
We all did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> I've always wondered what mischief Bill did on that train that in the end made it crash down the ravine. "The driver is dead and this thing won't stop". Yes, Bill, very concise, but what the hell did you do???  
> So I wrote it my way.  
> I've never played red dead redemption 1 so when Dutch said John didn't make it, I believed him, and I was heartbroken. Then I heard the first is based on John and thought Rockstar did this scene for all those people who, like me, didn't have this information. Well done.  
> Last chapter is coming soon!


	42. Living Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> Last chapter my friends but not actually the last one. There is a small epilogue that you can read immediately after this.  
> See you at the end!

My mind goes again to Charles as we silently ride back to camp. I’m thinking about him because I don’t know if I can go back to him. Not for now at least. Abigail and Jack have to go away, but they can’t do that on their own. They need someone, someone who takes care of them now that John… I still can’t believe it. How could that happen?  
My eyes arbitrarily move on Arthur, riding ahead of me. It can be him: he can go with Abigail and Jack and take care of them, so I can reach Charles.  
I shake my head vigorously as a great shame takes me. How selfish! How can you think something like this! Arthur is as much wanted as Dutch is and if he goes with them, they’ll still be in danger. Besides, Arthur’s health is not good. I can’t ask him to do this. He has done enough already. No, it must be me, even if this will draw me away from Charles. The idea of the perfect life with him is becoming more and more a distant dream now, something stupid that only a stupid girl like me could think to be possible.  
We reach the last crossroad right before the straight path that leads to camp, when a desperate scream makes us all stop.  
“They came and took Abigail!”  
It’s Tilly, riding towards us with Jack seated on the saddle in front of her.

“I saved Jack, we hid, but they took Abigail” she keeps yelling. There are no tears in her eyes but her voice is shaking.   
The shock paralyzes me and I can’t do much more than stare at Tilly as a strange weight starts pushing on my chest. No. Not Abigail too. Why? Why taking her? What’s her worth?  
“Who did?” asks Arthur.  
“Agent Milton and his men… took her to Van Horn to put her on a boat and tried for murder.”  
For what? Abigail has done nothing.The weight becomes heavier with every word she pronounces and now I feel like I can’t breathe. With a great effort, I turn my head right and exchange a look with Sadie.  
“I am sorry to hear that” says Dutch with the tone of someone who has already given up. Yes, there it is, he’s doing it again, just like he’s done with John. He’s giving up.   
“We gotta let her go” says Micah.  
“John’s a… well, sorry son” he adds to Jack.  
“Without John she’s just bait, we got a bunch of money, Dutch.”  
Little snake, he’s whispering into his ear. That’s what he is been doing in these months, right? That’s the only thing he is capable to do. Whisper.   
“She’s just a girl, they won’t do nothing to her. But, me and the boys know, we need to keep riding on this one, Dutch. You know it, every man here knows it.”  
“What?!” I exclaim.   
“So we just gonna let the boy be made an orphan?” asks Arthur.  
“I-it ain’t like that” replies Dutch.  
“But it seems” I yell.  
“Unlike you I wanna live, I still got the choice” says Micah.   
“You are a bastard!” I shout to his face.  
“It’s just a girl!”  
“And you’re just a dead man!”  
I take out my revolver, cock it, and point it right at his face.  
He doesn’t move, he isn’t scared at all. He knows he has most of the people here on his side. He is protected.   
“Stop it! Micah is right!” says Dutch.  
Mr. Joe moves his horse next to me and puts a hand on my gun making me lower it. When I look at him, he shakes his head with a menacing look.  
“Dutch…” says Arthur dismounting his horse and approaching him.  
“It pains me to say it, Arthur… but he is right.”  
“Dutch!”  
“Come on boys!”  
In a matter of seconds, they all leave except for Sadie, Arthur, Tilly and I. Before going away, Micah gives me another of those unpleasant smiles, the smile of someone who’s won the battle.   
After all we did, after all we risked together, everything is just gone. Arthur stays there looking at them riding away and the sight of him, as the world crashes down on his shoulders, pushes me to dismount Buell and walk by his side. But before I can reach him, he bends on his knees to cough. With the weight on my chest turning into a black hole, I quickly cover the distance between us and put an hand on his shoulder.  
“Oh…after all them years” he whispers.  
I take one of his hands and with the other I touch his bearded face to make him look up at me. His blue eyes are the saddest I’ve ever seen.   
“Let’s go. You, me and Sadie. We’ll rescue her and then… I’ll go with them, make sure they live a good life” I add and for a brief moment the image of Charles appears in the back of my mind, an image I push away with all my strength.   
Arthur knows I’m right. He nods a couple of times and turns around to address Tilly.  
“Miss Tilly, take this” he says giving her the money he still had on his horse.   
“Take Jack and you wait at Copperhead Landing, for Abigail and Fred.”   
“Thank you, Arthur.”   
The two of them exchange a look full of what seems to be the same love a brother and a sister would share.  
“You’re a good girl, you live a good life now, you hear?” he says.  
“Alright, Arthur. I’ll… I’ll miss…”  
It’s like my throat is clutched by a hand, like someone is choking me, and I can almost feel the pain as I try to swallow and the tears start running down my cheeks.  
“Me too, sweetheart. Me too… Jack, come here…” he adds.  
I’m not able to look at them anymore. I turn around and try to hide my pain as I can. I have to be strong, for them. I’m losing everything again, but I won’t let them live my same fate.   
“Be brave, son… I’m gonna go get your momma.”  
I quickly dry my tears and turn around.  
“Alright, I’ll meet you two soon” I say before mounting up on Buell. 

We take the road south-east. I have no idea what is waiting for us: I’ve never fought against the Pinkertons, until now we always avoided them, but this time, we are going straight inside the wolves den, falling in their trap purposely.   
“If they’re putting her on a boat, they’ll probably dock at the north end of town, so I reckon we should go in the other way” says Sadie.  
“Sure, I guess. I don’t know. Those goddamn bastards…” begins Arthur.  
“Look, just follow me, okay? We’re gonna get this done.”  
“I’m with you” I say.   
I can’t believe what just happened: me, I’ve been with them just for a few months, but Abigail… they were family, how could Dutch abandon her? Make Jack an orphan without blinking an eye. As soon as he took the money his first thought was to disappear and leave everyone behind.   
The road leads us to the Lannahechee river. We see it as soon as the trail bends left and it opens on the water landscape. After the turn, a lighthouse makes its appearance and on the side of the road a little sign informs us that we’ve reached our destination. I’ve never been here, but both Arthur and Sadie seem to know what they are doing, so I’ll just follow them.  
“Okay, here we are. Let’s ditch the horses and come up with a plan” orders Sadie. I’m glad she took the lead on this, taking a burden from Arthur’s shoulders.  
As I dismount Buell, my eyes lay on the rifle hanging from the side of the saddle, the rifle John gave we the night of our first job together. I take it and check the charge. Don’t worry, John, wherever you are, I’ll take care of them.   
I jerk around when I hear Arthur coughing again.   
“How you feeling?” asks Sadie.  
“I’m okay” he answers.  
We all look at the trading post in the distance. The place seems deserted, and now I have no doubt this is a trap. They’ll be waiting for us, stationed around every corner, behind every window, on every roof.  
“I think you should cover us and we’ll get in there and take her” says Sadie suddenly, handing her sniper rifle to Arthur, who looks back at her in something between disbelief and indignity.  
“Cause you’re the better shot I mean” she adds quickly.  
“That ain’t what you mean. I can still fight!” he exclaims.  
“We know you can, Arthur, but…” I begin.  
“Do it my way, honey. It’s for the best” says Sadie.  
Arthur keeps looking at her and her rifle but he doesn’t take it. Oh, for God’s sake, Arthur! This is really the worst possible moment to play the tough guy.  
“Listen, I want you to have my back. I feel safer” I say to convince him.   
“Get up some place high like…” starts Sadie.  
“The lighthouse” I complete her sentence pointing at the building above us.  
With a sigh and a roll of his eyes he finally takes the rifle.  
“It’s impossible with you two” he says before walking away.  
I follow Sadie down the road that leads to the docks and halfway to our destination, we take cover behind a building, the top of the lighthouse perfectly visible from where we are, so that when Arthur reaches it we’ll know it’s our turn.  
“You’ve done good before” I murmur as we lean on the wall, our shoulders one next to the other.   
“It was a good idea to leave him out of the action.”  
“He’s not too happy about it” she laughs.  
“Yeah, well, it’s for his own good.”  
But still, I don’t feel I’m doing all that’s possible for him. He’s a good man, probably he’s always been without even know it, and he deserved so much better.  
“You said you’re going with Abigail and Jack. Why?” asks Sadie out of nowhere.   
“They need someone who protects them.”  
“What about Charles?”  
Hear his name out loud is like a punch in the stomach. Why she has to bring him out?  
“I don’t know” I say looking away.  
“What you mean ‘you don’t know’? Don’t you love him?” she says outraged.  
“Of course I do! But… they need me.”  
“No, they don’t. They need someone who takes care of them. I will take care of them, so you can go back to Charles, and for God’s sake try to fix things and never let him go ever again!”   
It seems she’s taking the thing a little to much personally. Does she care so much about me and my happiness? I’ve never realized.  
“Are you sure about that? What about your life? You’ll give up on it to dedicate yourself to them?” I ask.  
“My life has ended the day my husband died. Yours as started the day you killed the men who murdered your family. I won’t let you spoil that. With Abigail and Jack I’ll have the chance to do something good.”  
I open my mouth without knowing what to say. Who could tell she knew so much about me? That she cared so much? And now I really can to go back to Charles and we can live our life together.   
A thrill runs through my body and it’s like it suddenly recovers the life it has lost during these last few days. I would like to run in circle and jump and scream of joy, let everybody know I can go back to him, but instead Sadie pats me on my shoulder and points me the top of the lighthouse. Arthur is in position.  
I push Charles out of my mind against my will to focus on what I have to do. Sadie moves, slow and quiet, and I follow her every movement, walking bended on myself and hiding every now and then behind some cargos or a building or a wagon, until we get to the docks. There, there are some armed men patrolling the streets.  
“She must be inside there” says Sadie pointing to a little cabin on the biggest dock.  
“Okay” I murmur, before looking at Arthur on the lighthouse.  
I wave a hand in his direction and then I point at the patrols, running my thumb through my throat and making him understand he can start shooting. He wastes no time.   
As I hear the echo of the first shot, one of the man on the road falls on the ground. The other takes out his gun, but Sadie gets him. I take out my revolver and we both move, crossing the road and hiding behind a boat on the shore, rolled on its side.  
More men come out of the buildings and alleys, alerted by our shots, and Arthur deals with them, one after the other, and those he can’t dispose of, we take care of.   
We move when the way is free, getting on the road again and taking cover behind some boxes. Arthur and Sadie keep shooting, while I glance at the cabin we’re supposed to reach. The door is shut and I can’t see movement on the inside from the windows.  
“Are you sure she’s in there?” I ask.  
“I think so, where else could she be?”  
I look at the other buildings around me trying to understand where they could keep her, but they all look the same from the outside.   
“The way is free, let’s go” says Sadie getting out our cover and running away before I can tell her to wait.  
Okay, I guess we’ll try the one on the dock first and if she’s not there we’ll search every fucking house in Van Horne.  
This time she doesn’t stop to take cover again, she runs until she gets to the cabin, when a man with a rifle in his hands gets out from behind the corner, pointing it against us. The shot makes me jump, but then the man falls on the ground and I turn to look at the lighthouse in backlighting, rising a hand to thank Arthur.  
I waste no time and taking the last steps towards the building I put a hand on the doorknob. I turn it, push the door open and…

It’s a pain a know way too well. How many times it happened I bumped my head, or someone hit me? Definitely too many. So, when I feel it, on the side of my head, I immediately recognize it and understand I’ve been hit with something heavy.  
It was a sound that woke me up, a loud sound that I have no idea of where it came from, and I open my eyes trying to understand where I am and what is happening around me. I see everything blurred, but still I can make out three different shapes. I blink, one, two, three times, when my ears catch some more sounds. Voices.  
“We offered you a deal, Mr. Morgan. You should have taken it.”  
I know this voice.   
“I’m a fool, Mr. Milton.”  
“Not all you boys have much so many scruples. Old Micah Bell…”  
“Micah? You mean Molly.”  
“Molly O’Shea? We sweated her a couple of times, never talked a word, had to let her go. Micah Bell. We picked him up when you boys came back from the Caribbean and he’s been a good boy ever since.”Slowly, my brain is able to catch the little information it’s receiving and turns it into a rational thought. Molly was innocent. She had nothing to do with it. Micah… that bastard snake son of a bitch! What else could I expect from him?  
“Arthur” I mumble with my eyelids still heavy.  
“Look who’s awake. I think I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name, Miss?” asks Milton.  
“Fuck you” I mumble.  
“Oh, a fighter. You seem to have…”  
But he’s not able to add anything else. I hear a struggle and force myself to keep my eyes open. Arthur has taken Milton’s arms and he’s trying to make his pistol fall on the ground. I try to move, but I find out I’ve been tied. Sadie next to me is in my same situation, while Abigail is tied to a chair. There are two dead bodies on the ground and their guns right next to them. If only I could reach one.  
“Fred” Abigail whispers and then nods to the ropes that keep her wrists on the armrests.   
Summoning all my strength, I lay on my side and slither until I reach her. With every movement the blood in my head makes the wound thump unpleasantly. Then, I sit up again and with my teeth I bite one of the ropes, pulling as hard as I can. In the meantime, I keep hearing Arthur and Milton struggling, and it seems it’s not getting good for my friend.  
“You’re losing your strength, Mr. Morgan” laughs Milton.  
It’s like someone is pulling my teeth with pliers, but I don’t stop biting until Abigail is able to free her hand. Quickly, she grabs the gun from the ground and fires.  
I close my eyes and lay back on the ground, resting my hurting head. It’s done. We did it. We’re free.  
I feel some hands on my arms and Abigail cuts me free. I stand slowly as she does the same for Sadie. Arthur is on the ground too, seated with his back against the wall. My head swims when I stand up, but I try to ignore it and stumble in his direction.  
“It’s done, Arthur. It’s done” I murmur reaching out a hand for him.  
“Come on, we deserve some rest now, right?” I add helping him to stand.  
“We sure do.”  
“Come on, let’s go” says Abigail opening the door and walking out.  
“We… we need to find the horses and get the hell out of here” says Arthur as we all walk back on the docks.   
The air is fresh and the clouds above us tell me that is probably going to rain. The place seems empty now, except for the corpses on the ground.   
“You think there still are Pinker…”  
The gunfire comes first, the pain immediately after. I think no-one who’s never experienced it can understand what it feels like. It’s like when someone kicks you in the guts, but twice as painful and you feel, truly feel, the bullet inside you, burning and breaking flesh and bones at its passage.   
With my eyes fixed on Arthur’s face, I bring my hand to my chest and sense the shirt cloth drenched in my own blood.  
Then, it happens. One of my lungs is invaded by the blood and it stops working. I try to inhale the air I need but I feel it blocked on my throat. My eyelids are heavy, my sight starts blacking out, and the pain keeps spreading.  
When the lung can’t contain any more blood, it starts raising through my throat. I cough trying to repress the instinct to throw up and a spill of blood exits my mouth.  
The vision of it makes me even weaker and my knees can’t sustain me anymore, so I slowly slip on the ground as several hands grab me, pulling me left and right.   
They say you see all your life pass in front of your eyes when you die. What a lie. The only thing I am seeing is Charles, the chance we had to live a probably terrible life, a life on the run, a life as outlaws, but still a life with him, a life worth living. And this chance now is gone forever.   
What will he think, how will he feel, when they’ll tell him I’m gone? Will he even care? It would have been nice to spend my last moments with him, tell him how much I loved him in the little time we had together. But now it’s too late.  
There are sounds around me that I’m not able distinguish: voices, shots, horses or steps? I can’t tell. My eyelids get heavier and heavier while my body suddenly becomes lighter that a feather, and the last thing I’m able to see is the world upside-down.


	43. Epilogue

As John walked down the street he kept glancing around hoping no-one would recognize him. He had promised to himself oven and over again never to set foot again in that goddamn city, but for his friend, this was a sacrifice he was keen to make.   
How many things they had to talk about. His new farm, how he found Uncle in Blackwater, and Sadie in Valentine. And he wanted to know what his friend had done in all those years. Eight years.   
“So…what happened?” asked Charles leading him out the alley and on the main road.  
“You mean back then? Arthur helped me get out, gave me a chance to… live, I guess. Y-you know that Arthur…”  
He couldn’t understand why talking about Arthur was so hard for him, even after all that time.  
“Sure. Word got to me up North, so I got back and buried him and Miss Grimshaw.”  
“And what about… her?”  
John didn’t know if say her name or not. Sadie had explained to him what had happened between Fred and Charles right before she got killed, and he didn’t want to awake in Charles bad memories of the past. But it was too late.  
Charles slowed his pace as the memory of the person he loved most in the world brought back an almost unbearable pain. He hadn’t heard of her since then, and he hadn’t said her name anymore, hoping he would just forget her.   
“I don’t know where she is, she never came back to me. Maybe she run away, maybe she understood I wasn’t worth it and she left me” he said and he felt his own voice full of resentment.  
John put a hand on his friend’s shoulder to make him stop and look at him right in the eye.  
“She didn’t run away, Charles. She’s…”  
There was no need to finish the sentence. With a slight change in his look, John was aware that his friend had understood. How couldn’t he know? Why no-one ever told him? All those years Charles had hated her for leaving him like that, for what she had done, blamed her for her choice, and now…  
“How?” he just asked.  
“She went with Arthur and Sadie to rescue Abigail from the Pinkertons. They shot her.”  
She had given her life for them, she sacrificed herself, and he wasn’t there, he couldn’t help her, he couldn’t say goodbye, and all because of that stupid fight they had over nothing. He wasn't even angry at her that night, he was just… overwhelmed by everything. How stupid! How stupid he had been! And now, how could he forgive himself for not staying by her side? For pushing her away and make her leave? For not saying 'I love you' for one last time?   
“I’m sorry friend” said John.  
“Do you know where her body is?” asked Charles.  
He couldn’t forgive himself, but at least he could have asked her for her forgiveness. On her tomb.  
“We never rescued her. I think Pinkertons got it.”  
So, that’s how it ended. He had abandoned the love of her life, left her to die, and now every trace of her on earth was erased.  
Charles lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to summon her face, how she looked like. If there was a place where she still existed it was in his mind. But the process was harder than he thought to be and just her eyes, her beautiful eyes were the only thing that he could picture.   
After all those years he had tried to forget her, it seemed he had finally succeeded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end of this adventure. This was the first story I've ever written in my entire life and maybe it's not perfect, but I love it anyway.   
> I want to thank you all for the support. I really hope that you liked it and that you'll come back some other day to read some other story of mine.  
> Until then, see you soon!


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